Constantine Spirit
by morph
Summary: I am a Spirit sent to guide the Chosen Ones of the Movieverses. My fourth assignment: John Constantine.
1. WTF?

Bonjour. Welcome to my fourth spirit fic. If you're not up to speed with my spirit character, named Bastet in this fic, here's the skinny: She's not a Mary Sue. She's a sprit guide for Constantine and will follow him throughout the events of the movie. The rest you should be able to pick up in this chapter and along the way, or you could go read my other spirit fics. (Nightcrawler Spirit, Sparrow Spirit and Skinner Spirit.) I only own Bastet and her sister Anput. Constantine and company belong to Warner Bros and Vertigo comics. Special thanks to my boyfriend Cameron for being the beta. Please enjoy this fic and review. Merci.

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I took a deep breath and attempted to mentally ready myself for this assignment. This included preparation for guiding a man who can detect humans who are in fact half demons or half angels. This man was also an exorcist, cynical, a loner, and a pack a day smoker. As a consequence he was dying of lung cancer, and when he finally _did_ die he was going to go to Hell. He put the 'anti' in antihero. His triumphant heroic move was going to be unlike anything ever seen before. He was John Constantine.

"Crud," I thought. "No amount of mental preparation is going to be enough for this."

I was standing outside Constantine's door. I felt very much like Angela Dawson was going to feel in a few days. I took another deep breath, squared my shoulders, and knocked on the door.

It opened a crack. The man on the other side was tall and lean with dark hair and even darker eyes. His clothes were simple, if not a tad rumpled. White shirt, black tie, black pants. "John Constantine?" I enquired. I didn't need to ask. I know it was him. I was just being polite.

John studied me. I felt like I was being x-rayed. In a sense, I was. He was trying to determine what I was. He knew I wasn't a half-breed, but I still wasn't of this world. I saw his eyes narrow slightly in confusion.

"Who are you?"

"I have many names, but you can call me Bastet. Can I come in?"

Constantine stepped aside, pushing the door further open. I smiled and walked in. "Thank you." He shut the door and walked over to the table in the middle of the room. He took a smoking cigarette from an ashtray and took a drag on it. I tried not to wrinkle my nose at the smell. It would be something I would have to get used to. My eyes took in the dark room. It was long and simple. Innumerable large water jugs - the kind you would use for an office lined the wall under the windows, each bottle marked with a cross. Holy water.

"What do you want?" Constantine asked.

"I have a job for the next few days, Mr Constantine," I began. "And that job is to guide you. I am a spirit, and I have been sent here to help you out for a little while."

He blew smoke at me. "I don't need any help."

"Thought you would say that. You're wrong. You are going to need my help. Trust me. I know your near future. All you have to do is believe me and not tell anyone about me. Only you can see and hear me. Anyone else could walk right through me and not feel it."

Constantine puffed his cigarette. I sensed that he didn't quite believe me. I could feel him examining me with his own physic powers.

"I know you're not like everyone else, John," I said. "You can tell I'm not lying."

There was another pause. Finally John spoke. "Why do you want to help me? What are you getting out of it?"

"Nothing except for the honour of being John Constantine's spirit guide," I replied. I knew that sounded cheesy. John thought so too. He rolled his eyes.

"So you just hang out and help me out for a few days just for the heck of it and the only catch is I can't tell anyone about you?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yep." I cocked my head, sensing something was about to happen. Time to get this story started. "You'd better get ready. Hennessy's going to call any minute now with an exorcism for you."

No sooner had those words left my mouth when the phone rang. John answered it, muttered "yes…I'll be right there" into the receiver, then hung up. He gave me a long look and sighed. "You're not going to go away, are you?"

"Not unless you tell someone about me or don't believe and trust me. In which case I would have to leave." I took a step towards him. "Look, I know you don't like accepting anything on faith. You don't trust many people and you have few friends. Believe me, in a few days, you'll be glad I'm here."

"You know what's going to happen to me, right?" he asked in a low voice.

"Yes, I do."

"So what am I going to do now?"

"You're going to go get Chas who is bowling downstairs, then you're going to go to that apartment and you're going to save a little girl's life," I said.

"And you're coming with me," he added.

I nodded once. "Yes, I am."

Constantine crushed out his cigarette in the tray. "Fine." He grabbed his coat and I followed him out.

We met up with Chas downstairs. I had to smile. I liked Chas. He was young, a bit naive, but eager and willing to learn. I noticed a girl who bore a striking resemblance to me standing near him. The girl was my sister, named Anput in this world. She was Chas's spirit guide.

"Chas, let's go," John told his apprentice. "Hennessey just called. He's got an exorcism and needs help."

"Uh, yeah. Sure thing, John," Chas said, abandoning his game and falling into step behind Constantine.

I made a show of passing through Chas, making sure that Constantine saw me. Chas didn't even blink. John eyed me, as did my sister. Anput's expression asked me "why did you do that?"

"Further proof," I said aloud for my assignment and sister. "Just in case you had any lingering doubts, John." Constantine smiled thinly. As did I. I had him now.

Anput took my idea and suddenly walked through Constantine, much to Chas's amazement. "Proof enough for you?" I heard her ask her assignment.

"Uh, Constantine?" Chas asked. John stopped and turned to him.

"What?"

"Did you feel anything…unusual just now?"

"No."

"Oh. Okay."

John continued walking to Chas's yellow cab. As he opened the door I gave John an explanation for Chas's odd question. "Don't mind him. He has a spirit guide too. She is my sister and she just walked through you to prove to Chas what she is, just like I walked through Chas to prove who I am to you."

I walked over to the other side and got in the back seat beside John. I didn't even have to open the door, I just passed straight through. Doing this stung old injuries, scars on my chest and right palm, but I didn't care. It was either that, or have the door open seemingly all by its self. Chas hopped into the driver's seat and Anput rode shotgun, pulling the same trick I did to get into the cab.

"So where are we going?" Chas asked. Constantine gave him the address. I looked out the window and sighed as the cab pulled away. This was going to be an interesting couple of days.


	2. Exorcism

The yellow cab pulled up in front of an apartment building. My thoughts about the irony of this story being set in the so-called 'City of Angels' were instantly halted. I looked over to my assignment. Constantine draped his hand out of the open window and let the cigarette he was holding fall. He opened his door and got out. I passed through my door, again wincing as my old scars complained. I walked around the front of the cab. Chas was still sitting in the driver's seat, looking slightly dejected. He knew he wasn't allowed to go with John yet to an actual exorcism. Anput smiled at me. I smiled back and gave her a little wave. By now, Constantine was through the gate. I trotted through the door to catch up with him.

"One of these days you'll have to let Chas come along," I said. "No use having an apprentice if all he does is sit in the car."

John glanced at me. "He'll come when he's ready."

As we strode into the lobby of the apartment building Constantine took out a packet of cigarettes and placed one between his lips. I sighed quietly. It took every ounce of will power not to say anything about his smoking. He wouldn't listen to me even if I did. I glanced away to the small television set showing cartoons with the sound muted. This meant I didn't have to watch as he lit the cigarette with his ornately decorated lighter.

I knew Hennessy was hiding behind a nearby pillar. Constantine probably knew it too. "I think…" Hennessy whispered as he slowly stepped out. "I think I found you one." He approached Constantine, who exhaled smoke. "Look, I called you, right? Soon as I couldn't pull it out myself, I called you, John."

Hennessy seemed a bit nervous. I suspected it was because he was afraid of the demon upstairs. I momentarily focused my energy on sensing the demon. _There_ it was… dangerous and angry. John didn't say a word as he passed Hennessy, opened a gate, and began climbing the stairs to the apartment above. I followed behind him.

Upstairs frightened, confused, and anxious people of a mix of races lined the hall, poking their heads out of their apartments, meandering about. Some studied Constantine as he passed. Some ignored him completely. All of them ignored me. Somewhere, a baby cried. Constantine payed the people no heed as he strode down the hall. He didn't need to be told which apartment it was. He could psychically sense the demon as well. Both of our senses told us we were getting closer.

A man and a woman exited an apartment at the very end of the hall. The man looked distraught and the woman was comforting him. A small bit of what the woman was saying reached my ears. "It's okay, it's okay. We had to tie her down, okay. It's okay." I noticed Constantine spared them a backward glance as they passed us.

"What you're going to find is a young girl, approximately ten or eleven years old, maybe younger," I told Constantine. "As you've just heard, she's been tied down to a bed. I'm afraid I won't be much help during the actual exorcism, but I'll make sure you don't get killed."

Constantine didn't say a word to me. We passed into the apartment and the girl's worried mother and some other female relatives, perhaps aunts. The mother was clutching a Bible and a long string of rosary beads. She looked up fearfully at Constantine as he walked into the girl's room.

John paused, taking a drag on his cigarette. He blew smoke and glanced at the girl. Then he set his smoke down on the edge of a dresser. I lingered in the doorway. I had a very strong urge not to enter the room. I could sense the demon acting as a finger puppeteer inside the child's body. It was like feeling waves of angry heat from a fire burning with too much fuel in too little space. Constantine was more used to the sensation. His experience taught him to show the demon no fear, that at least half of the battle was psychological.

John calmly moved around the bed. The possessed girl growled fiercely at him, straining her bonds. Constantine, his back to the demon in a bold move, approached the closed curtains. He knew that demons dislike natural light. In one simple move, John tore the curtain down. Light filled the room and the demon hissed painfully, trying to turn away from the window. I winced slightly as my eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. John tossed the curtain away and rummaged through a pocket of his coat.

Meanwhile, I had mustered up the bravery to enter the room. I hugged the wall and edged my way towards the bed. I had to be ready in case my assignment needed help.

Constantine produced a set of key rings. He shuffled through them for a second, then lifted one up to the lift so that the symbol on it cast a shadow over the struggling girl. John went through three symbols with no reaction. The fourth was vaguely star shaped. I don't know what it meant, but it had the demon hissing and writhing on the bed. My assumption was that this told John what type of demon he was dealing with here. I already knew it would be a solider demon.

Constantine turned and stepped onto the bed. He stood over the girl, then kneeled down so he was straddling her with one knee raised. He leaned in close to the girl's face, her opaque eyes screwed shut, and whispered in her ear. Whatever the demon heard, Satan would hear. My assignment wanted them to know who was going to send this demon back to Hell. "This is Constantine. John Constantine, asshole."

The girl raised her face to look at Constantine. The demon would be a little frightened now. John Constantine's name was very well-known in Hell, with many of its residents having been sent down there by him. The demon spoke to Constantine in Filipino, but from her mouth it sounded like a demonic language. The girl's voice was warped, raspy, and threatening. "Papatayin natin sila!" I mentally translated it into "We'll kill them all!"

"Sure," Constantine said to the demon. Suddenly he grabbed the girl's head and pressed the metal symbol in his hand into her forehead. The demon screamed, the girl's limbs twitching at an unnatural speed. Smoke drifted from where the symbol touched the girl's flesh. Constantine was whispering in Latin. I looked over to the girl's mother who was watching the scene in horror. I bit my lip.

The girl abruptly went silent and still. Dead silent and still. Her feet _tonked_ the metal in the foot board. Constantine finished his Latin phrase and removed the symbol from the girl's forehead. It had left a red burn mark in the shape of the star. Constantine was puzzled. "What the hell?" he wondered quietly. It shouldn't have killed her. The demon should still have plenty of fight left. I knew that it did and I took a step backwards. Constantine shifted his position so he could lean in closer. He tilted his head, perhaps to listen for the girl breathing. The demon, without warning, roared and lunged for Constantine, its jaws trying to snap at him from inside the girl's neck. Constantine's reflexes were quick enough to avoid the demon's snapping teeth. He punched the hell-spawn square in the mouth and it fell back into the unconscious girl.

Constantine dropped the key chain and shook his fist. His heart was pounding, as was mine. Constantine wasn't expecting the demon to do that and was a bit startled. He now knew that there was something very different and very wrong about this exorcism. "I need a mirror," he said. He turned to the fearful people watching the scene from the relative safety of the hall. "Now. At least…" he glanced back at the girl and made a quick estimate. "Three feet high."

For a second, no one did anything. They stood in shock.

"Move!" Constantine shouted. "Go! Now!" The men who were watching leapt into action. They said something to each other and ran out of the apartment.

John got off the bed and moved to a wall. He found a phone cable and pulled it out of its socket. He tugged on the cord, ripping out the fasteners securing it to the wall around the baseboard. Then he grabbed a chair and used it to smash out the window. He took the cord, moved out onto the fire escape, and looped it around a metal bar above his head. I saw him look down and realise that Chas' cab was in the drop zone.

"Chas!" He yelled.

Chas, who had previously been practicing his "this is Kramer. Chas Kramer, ass hole" line, yelled back up. "What?"

"Move the car."

"Why?"

Constantine didn't have time for this. "Move the damn car!" He stepped back inside the room.

There was a squeal of tires and a brief sound of a car engine from outside. "There, car's moved," Chas hollered.

Now Constantine turned to me. "Bastet, help me move the bed." I nodded and did so. We shifted the bed, girl and demon still on it, so that it lined up with the window, the headboard facing away from it. John climbed back up onto the bed, the cord in his hand.

Just then, the group men returned with the mirror. They rushed into the room. "Lift it up over the bed," Constantine told them. They did so, Constantine helping them to position it just right. Hennessy came into the room, looking at John with wide eyes. "Tie that end off," Constantine told one of the men, giving him one end of the cord. "Hennessy, over the top." Father Hennessy took the other end and strung it over the top of the mirror as asked. He stood at the head of the bed holding the remaining cord taught.

The demon was regaining its strength. I took a deep breath to prepare myself for the final battle. Constantine addressed the room. "Close your eyes. And whatever happens, don't look." This warning didn't apply to me. I watched the horrific spectacle as one witnesses a car crash. I just couldn't turn away.

Constantine covered the girl's eyes. The demon growled and snarled as Constantine chanted Latin spells and prayers in a quiet voice. One of the men holding the mirror peeked through his tightly shut eyes and instantly regretted it. His body seemed to age, his dark hair turning grey and white. He backed away and stumbled into the furniture by the wall. His absence caused to mirror to tilt. "No," Constantine grunted, taking his hand off the girl's eyes to hold up the mirror. The demon reached up and grasped Constantine's throat, choking him. Constantine dropped the mirror to grab the girl's wrist, his other hand busy helping to support his body weight. I rushed over and grabbed his shoulder. He shifted his weight off his other hand and used it to recover the girl's eyes. I tried to use my powers to give Constantine the strength he was rapidly running out of. The man in the corner was swatting at his head like it was full of mosquitoes.

He would be scarred for life. I put him out of my mind, focusing on the more pressing issue at hand.

"Show yourself," Constantine grunted as he struggled to keep in control. Eventually the demon's jaws could once again be seen snapping and snarling inside the girl's throat. "Smile pretty, you vain prick," Constantine muttered. He uncovered the girl's eyes and moved aside, allowing her to see her reflection.

My mouth dropped open when I saw what had landed inside the mirror. The possessed girl's reflection was of the demon itself. It climbed over the reflection of Constantine's back and leapt onto the mirror surface. Only a thin barrier was now between the demon and this world. The demon had no brain or eyes, just a nose and a mouth. It was skinny and the colour of rotten beef jerky. The little girl, still possessed, smiled at the demon in the mirror.

John checked over his shoulder to see if his plan had worked. Seeing that it had, he gave the demon the finger. "For your boss."

The demon didn't like that very much. It roared and growled at Constantine.

"Pull it!" John shouted at Hennessy. He tugged on the cord. As a result, the mirror began to move out the window, only to slam against the window frame. It was just about an inch too wide to go out. Shit.

Swearing under his breath, Constantine clambered over the headboard and grabbed the cord off of Hennessy. The demon was slamming its fists into the glass, trying to break through. Constantine braced his feet against the headboard and put all of his weight into pulling on the cord and sending that mirror out. I jumped up and helped him. The cord dug into our hands painfully. John was stretched out horizontally. To my horror, I saw the demon manage to reach one scaly hand through the cracked mirror into our world.

Disaster was avoided as the window frame abruptly gave way. Constantine and I fell onto the floor as the mirror rocketed out of the building. The demon screeched, reaching for the sky for a moment before it plummeted and landed directly onto the hood of Chas' cab. It exploded, sending the demon back down where it belonged and denting the cab's hood.

John and I took a moment on the floor to regain our breath. We heard the little girl gasp and start to cry for her mother in a normal, if not terrified, voice. Hopefully for her all this would result in were some horrible nightmares. The mother ran right through me as I struggled to my feet. I looked over at John. He was exhausted. That exorcism had taken a lot out of him, more so than usual because of his failing health and the sheer strength of that particular demon. He declined my offer to help him to his feet. Instead he grabbed the cigarette he had placed on the dresser earlier. To his disappointment, it had gone out.

He walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, already going for a fresh cigarette from a packet he produced from his pocket. I sighed loudly in exhaustion and frustration. John tossed the empty packet aside, leaning against the fridge.

"That exorcism wasn't right, was it?" I said.

John looked at me and shook his head, still too out of it to talk. His eyes spied something on the wall. On a pin-up board surrounded by other children's artwork was a crude black and white drawing of a spearhead on a red background. I instantly recognized it. "Looks like the Spear of Destiny." I remarked casually. Constantine walked over and tore it off the wall. "You think it means something?"

John's dark eyes met mine. "Probably not. But I assume you know that it does?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, but I can't tell you anything about it yet. Got to let you figure it out on your own."

John turned for the exit. "Great," he said sarcastically.

Hennessy caught up with us as we were moving down a hallway back towards the lobby. I moved ahead of John so I wouldn't have Hennessy walking through me. That wouldn't have been fun.

"Like I said, I found you something, didn't I, John? Didn't I?" Hennessy asked, like, "was I right, or was I _right_." Oh, if only he knew exactly _what _he had found. He pointed a thumb behind him. "What happened in there?"

We started walking down the wooden stairs. I sensed, rather then saw the half-breed demon known as Balthazar watching Constantine and Hennessy from above, rolling his ever-present coin over his fingers. No doubt Constantine sensed him too, but the last thing John wanted right then was a confrontation with a half-breed so he ignored him.

The three of us walked out through the gate and into the lobby. Constantine noticed Hennessey drinking from a small flask. There definitely wasn't soda in that flask.

"Going to a lot of meetings, I see," Constantine remarked.

"Keeps the voices out so I can sleep," Hennessey explained. We stopped walking. "I have to sleep, John."

Constantine could understand that all too well. "I need some help, Father." He turned to face him.

"You do?" Hennessy look pleased. Everyone likes to be useful. "From me? What kind of - " But then he realised it wasn't the type of help that would be easy to give. We _were_ talking about John Constantine, here. Hennessy noticed John staring at the amulet around his neck, the Celtic symbol for the Holy trinity, and took a step back, clutching it protectively. "Hey, listen, I - "

"That exorcism wasn't right," John said, echoing my own words. He stepped forward, closing the gap between him and Hennessy. "Listen to the ether." He fished his hands around his friend's neck and unclipped the chain. "Anything unusual, you let me know." Hennessy didn't say anything in protest, but his eyes were fearful. "Come on, you don't need its protection. It'll be like back in the day." Back in the day when Constantine and Hennessy were closer and fought demons with ease. Before Hennessy turned into an alcoholic and John started losing friends. Besides, Hennessy couldn't surf the ether with the amulet on. John tucked the amulet into an inside pocket in Hennessy's coat. I chewed on the inside of my lip. He was going to regret doing that later. Hennessy still seemed uncertain. He _really_ didn't want to do what John was asking. "A few days," John reassured him. Only for a few days. That was all it was going to take.

Against his better judgement, Hennessy nodded. "Okay. Okay. For you, John." Hennessy trusted him, maybe too much.

I shook my head slightly as we exited the building. I hadn't said or done anything to stop Constantine from doing that. I knew it would ultimately result in Hennessy's downfall, and as much as I didn't want that to happen, I also knew that it _had _to happen. In the end, it would be for the best. Hennessy would at last be free of the burden that was his body and the horrors of this world he lived in. Thinking about this made me feel a little bit better.

Chas was trying to punch the dent out of the hood of the cab when we arrived. Slivers and small shards of broken glass from the mirror flew with each hit. It did little to improve the state of the hood. Anput was still in the car, watching in amusement. Chas slammed the hood shut. "John, why would you do that if you know it's not my car?" he asked.

John shrugged and opened the door. "I told you to move it."

Chas leaned against the driver's side roof as John got in. "Right, John. You did tell me to move it, but if you told me it was a three hundred pound mirror you were dropping with a pissed-off demon…" Chas opened the door and got in. I also slipped into the cab. A grin began to form on my face, and by glancing in the rear-view mirror I could see Anput smiling too. "I would have moved it further, John," Chas concluded. He took off his cap and tossed it at Anput. I tried to control my smile.

"Take Alverado," Constantine said.

"Yeah, John, thank you. I know what to take." Chas remarked, still irritated. I let a rogue smirk escape. I glanced at John. He was deadpan, but I thought I saw a fleeting hint of laughter in his eyes. He lit up another cigarette and we drove off.

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AN/ Thank you to those who reviewed the first chapter. This chapter _is_ long, I know. It's the longest I've ever done.

Some people reminded me that Constantine may not like having a spirit following him around, and I realise they are right. I've written an arguement about it between Constantine and Bastet in a later chapter, soI have addressed this issue. Thank you for your time.


	3. Misery

"You ever think if you told me more now that maybe I could help out?" Chas asked. He'd been badgering John ever since we left the apartment. We had pulled up beside the bowling centre and Chas was still asking questions as the four of us exited the cab.

John took a drag on his cigarette and ignored the question.

"No?" Chas assumed.

"Nope."

"Nope? Of course it's a nope," Chas muttered.

Constantine and I started to move up to his apartment above the bowling centre. Chas gathered a bag out of the trunk of the cab and Anput went with him to notify Beeman of the "new game" that was afoot, giving the bag to John.

Inside the apartment, John walked over to a wall and pulled on a chain. The effect was instantaneous. Shutters covering the windows that stretched along the length of the room were pulled open. Sunlight gave the room an almost orange/yellow tinge. Nevertheless, I couldn't stop a small smile from gracing my face.

"Home sweet home," I said.

Constantine coughed. "Sure."

My smile vanished. Constantine coughed some more. I bit my lip and waited for him to stop. When he finally did, he took off his coat, hung it up, and dropped the bag he was carrying in a corner.

"Do you have anything for that cough?" I asked.

"Yeah, but I ran out yesterday." John's voice sounded hoarser that usual.

"Well, Beeman will bring you some more tomorrow."

John crossed the room, finding a packet of cigarettes and taking one out. At the far side was an area sectioned off as a bedroom. He sat on the bed.

"You should probably see a doctor," I advised, following him slowly.

The cigarette between his lips bobbed as he spoke. "Why?"

"Because it's going to get a _lot _worse."

Constantine fished his lighter out of a pocket and lit the cigarette. The lighter snapped closed. He turned his head and looked at me, his expression was hard to read. He took the smoke out of his mouth, then sighed and stared at the floor. He looked, and probably felt, miserable. I glared at the smoke rising from the cigarette. It probably wasn't his fault that he was addicted, but as far as I knew, he had never tried to quit and that was just as bad in my opinion.

"At _least_ promise me that when - not _if_, but _when_ - you start coughing up blood, you'll go see a doctor."

Constantine looked at me again. His dark eyes searched mine. He really didn't look well. I tired to lighten the mood with a small smile. "Savvy?"

He arched an eyebrow. "'Savvy?'" he repeated. He rolled his eyes. "Great. Another Pirates of the Caribbean fan girl."

My smile widened. "Actually, I was the one who guided Captain Jack Sparrow."

"Yeah, sure." Sarcasm oozed from those words.

Now my eyebrows shot up. "I did! I got impaled to the door of the blacksmith shop!" He still didn't believe me. I rolled my eyes and stretched down the collar of my shirt just far enough to show him my scar. "See?"

"So all that stuff that happened was real?" Constantine's voice was deadpan. He took a drag on his cigarette and shook his head. "Cursed pirates don't exist."

"Says the man who has literally been to Hell and back," I muttered. John gave me a sour look. I sighed and tried to explain. "It happened in its own world. In its own dimension of time and space." I shook my head. "Look, don't worry about it. It's not important here and now. All that _is_ important are you and the others here; Hennessy, Beeman, Chas, etcetera." I was careful not to mention Angela or Midnite. Constantine hadn't met Angela yet, and although he did know Midnite, mentioning his name might give away a hint that he was going to be involved soon.

After Constantine had gone to bed, I took some time to explore his apartment. I found some photos of two girls. One could have been his sister. The other girl in another photo didn't look so much like him. Old girlfriend, perhaps.

I began to receive flashes in my mind of detective Angela Dawson going to confession, admitting that she had killed another man and worrying that she was damned because she always knew where the bad guys were, "where to aim, when to fire". The priest reassured her that God had a plan for her and that she "mustn't let your faith be overshadowed by guilt." In her apartment near the freeway Angela went through her routine of going to bed, all the while her brain was churning over thoughts of guilt, God and damnation. Then she had the vivid nightmare about her twin sister Isabel, waking up in Ravenscar hospital and running to the roof. She knew that _he_ wanted her, had marked her with his symbol. She knew that killing herself would be a sin and she would be punished in hell for all eternity, but it was either that or allowing Hell to come to Earth. So she tore off her ID bracelet, letting it flutter away on the wind, and fell from the roof of the hospital. A tragic nightmare, only it wasn't just a nightmare. It was really happening. As soon as Isabel died Angela awoke, gasping and afraid.

At the same time, I heard a noise from John's bedroom. I shook myself out of the trance I had gone into and saw John run into the bathroom. His coughing was so bad it sounded like he was going to hack up a lung. I rushed to his side as he bent over the sink and spat. We both saw the red liquid mixed with his saliva and knew its ominous meaning.

"_Now_ will you go to a doctor?" I asked.

Constantine wiped his mouth and stared at himself in the mirror. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He took deep breaths. I'm sure this must have been painful for his ailing lungs. Breathing always hurt for him nowadays.

I resorted to pleading. "Constantine, please?"

He gave in and nodded. "Okay," he replied hoarsely.

For the first time I realised that he was shirtless. I smiled faintly when I spotted the conjuring tattoos on his arms. He looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

"Don't worry," I said. "Spirits aren't allowed to get romantic with their assignments. Not that you'd want to get romantic with me."

He rolled his eyes. "You're not _that_ bad. I've seen a hell of a lot worse."

I smiled and sighed. "Thanks. You want to try to get some more sleep? You're going to need it."

"Just got to make an appointment first." He said sarcastically.

"Call them now," I suggested.

Constantine shot me a dark look, but went and called Ravenscar hospital anyway. I closed my eyes and used some of my powers to make it possible for John to get an appointment the next day. That done, he walked back to the bed and sat on the rumpled sheets, rubbing his eyes. A near-by clock read 3:00 AM.

"You had something to do with that," he said tiredly. "No one can make an appointment at three in the morning."

I let a smile escape. "Yep."

"It won't matter, you know. Even if I am really sick and going to die, we both know where I'm going."

I sighed. "You go there, I go there too. You're stuck with me, no matter what happens to you."

He looked at he, something sad in his eyes. "Can spirits like you die?" he asked. I sighed again.

"Yes, but not in the same way you can. I've been impaled through the chest and lived. I don't need air when I'm under water, so I can't drown. I'm immune to cold weather too. I'm not immortal though, eventually I'll fade away." I didn't particularly want to think about this though. "You're worried about another ghost following you around, aren't you?"

"Got enough of them already," Constantine muttered, going for a cigarette. I knew that he did, even though for once I could not see or sense them. He could though. There was probably one in the room right now, watching him. Some old companion now dead because he trusted Constantine and was killed by a demon or some similar entity.

"I'm not going to haunt you for the rest of your life," I said, ignoring the smoke and sitting beside him on the bed. "Unless, of course, I ever get the chance to see you again after this little adventure is over." He gave me a look. "But that wouldn't _really _count as haunting," I added with a smile. "It'll just be because you need my help again."

Constantine blew smoke and said nothing for a short while. "What if I don't want to see you again?" he asked at last.

"You don't have a choice about that," I said, feeling a little put out. "If my masters decide you need me again, they'll send me."

Constantine puffed on what was left of his cigarette. "You sound like a half-breed angel or something." I smiled and shrugged. Constantine stood and crushed out the cigarette in the astray on the table.

"You should get some more sleep," I advised, also standing.

"I won't be able to now."

"Yes, you will," I insisted. "I can make you fall asleep. Now, get into bed or I'll make you fall where you stand." It was an empty threat, but John flopped down on the bed. He really was exhausted, despite what he told me, and I knew that a few sleepless nights lay ahead for him. Thanks to me, John Constantine was dozing in no time.

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AN/ Thank you to those who took the time to review. The next chapter should be up within a week. 


	4. Diagnosis

In Ravenscar hospital the next morning the sight before me was grim. It didn't take a genius or someone with a medical degree to know what the large white masses dominating the black space inside the lungs on John's chest x-ray were and to know that they not a good thing. Even to my untrained eye, the diagnosis was easy; lung cancer. I knew it all along. I sighed, crossing my arms over my chest and biting my lip. I remembered someone close to me who had also died of lung cancer. I wondered if his chest x-rays looked like this.

Constantine just about couldn't believe it. The irony of it all. "Things I've beaten," he said, staring at the x-rays. He had an unlit smoke in his hand. "Things most people never even heard of." He scowled accusingly at the small paper and tobacco tube. "And now I'm going to be done in by this."

The doctor, a pretty black woman who had treated John when he came in all those years ago from a suicide attempt shook her head. She was sitting by the lit x-ray wall. "Wouldn't be the first, John."

"And you won't be the last," I added as he turned his back on us and took a few steps away. It was as if walking away from the x-rays was walking away from the cancer itself. The only problem was that the cancer wasn't pinned up on the wall. It was inside him.

"Come on, Les," John said, looking over his shoulder at the doctor. He didn't seem to want to look at the x-rays. I couldn't blame him. "You saved me before, you can do it again, right?"

Les shook her head again. "This is aggressive."

"Translation," I thought. "It's too late." I dared not say these words aloud. I didn't need to. Constantine could translate those words just as well as I could. He turned his back on her again.

"Twenty years ago you didn't want to be here," the doctor reminded him. "Now you don't want to leave." She noticed John lighting a cigarette. Her gentle voice turned hard with sarcasm. "Yeah, that's a good idea."

John ignored her, snapping his lighter closed with an angry click.

"John, you really need to prepare," Les continued. My assignment chuckled dryly and looked at her. "Make arrangements." Meaning, plan your funeral, call your parents, finalise your will, etc.

"No need," John said with a shake of his head. I already know exactly where I'm going." He turned to the door and let himself out, shooting a glance at me. Part of me cringed under the brief, but strong glare. Then I sighed and followed him.

I knew that in another part of the hospital - the hydrotherapy room to be exact - Angela Dawson was looking over the body of her twin, Isabel. I was reminded as I followed Constantine through the hospital towards the elevators that she and him would run into each other for the first time in a few seconds. My mind raced to prepare myself for this encounter, but then I also remembered that there really wasn't anything to prepare for.

As John stepped into the elevator, I looked down the hall for Angela. There she was. I stepped in beside John.

"Hold the door," Angela said to John, speeding up in an attempt to catch the elevator. "Are you going down?"

Constantine made no move to be helpful. He was in a sour mood. "Not if I can help it."

Angela managed to get a good look at him as the grey doors closed. I gave Constantine a look, as did some of the others in the elevator with us. Now he was just being rude. I managed to suppress a smirk at his reply to Angela. She wouldn't get the joke, that if John could help it, he wouldn't be going down to Hell, not down to the ground floor.

An image flashed in my mind as we reached the desired floor. A Mexican man - a scavenger - by the name of Manuel, travelling through the desert. A mysterious, ancient spear head clutched in his hand - The Spear of Destiny. A demonic voice was whispering in his head. He slid down a steep hill and scaled a fence with supernatural ability. Then he began to walk down a road that divided a farmer's field that was full of cattle. As he walked, the cattle dropped where they stood, dead. Their carcasses rotting away with an ungodly speed. Some farmer was not going to be happy when he discovered this.

I stopped and blinked, trying to clear this horrific image away. John looked back at me and raised an eyebrow. Still haunted by the memory of the vision, I followed him out of the hospital. John paused only to snuff out his smoke before hopping into Chas' cab. I slid in silently, making brief eye contact with Anput. She knew the outcome of this visit as well. She also must have received the same vision. Something passed between us, a mutual "that was _not_ fun."

"So, what did the doctor say?" Chas asked as he drove.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Chas looked concerned, but was used to answers like this from him.

"He's got to find out sooner or later," I said. "It's only fair. He's your apprentice. He has a right to know that you're running out of time to teach him."

John shot me another dark look. I figured he must have already thought of that, so I shut up and stared out the window. If push came to shove, there was always the option of Anput telling Chas.

"Beeman will be up this afternoon," Chas said.

John nodded at that, muttering "Thanks."

Chas's face twitched in a small smile.

The rest of the drive was in silence.

Back in the apartment, John put on a record. My mouth quirked at the old fashioned player. Paul Desmond's 'Take Five' filled the apartment. While I was not familiar with this piece of music, I liked how it lifted the mood in the room.

My eyes were on the door, waiting for Beeman, the strange man who lived behind the bowling lanes, to come in. My gaze darted briefly to the Hindi patterned novelty can waiting on the table for its new owner. Earlier, I couldn't help but turn it over and giggle at the sound it make.

My face split into a grin when Beeman opened the door. He was clutching a bag. He peered into the room for a second behind thick glasses. "A new case?"

John had been sitting on the bed once again in contemplation. Hearing Beeman's voice, he stood and walked towards him.

"The big score? The mother lode? The one you've been waiting for?" Beeman continued. He shut the door.

"Humour me," John said through a lungful of smoke.

"Don't I always?"

John pointed to the novelty can. Beemen deposited his bag on the table top, picked up the can, and turned it upside down. _Baaaaaaaaaa_ went the can. I couldn't suppress another giggle. Beeman was equally delighted. He didn't ask for much in exchange for his relics, and this was something special he had requested.

"Oh yeah, that's…much obliged. Thank you," Beeman chuckled. Then his smile faded some. "How you feeling, John?" Standing between the men, my smile also faded. I understood the subtext at play here. Beeman knew that John was sick. He was wondering if he had been to the doctor, and if so, what the diagnosis was.

Constantine purposely avoided the topic. "So what's new?" He flicked ash into the tray in the middle of the table.

Beeman shrugged and went to his bag. He pulled out a large box of cigarettes without a word. Constantine looked at it and slid it over to the far end of the table. Beeman listed some of the other items as he pulled them out and placed them on the table. It read like a weird grocery list. John picked up each item and examined it for himself. It was a routine they must have done more than once in the past. "Uh…bullet shavings from the assassination attempt on the Pope, holy water ampoules from the River Jordan…and - oh, you'll love this. Screech beetle from Amityville." He gave John a matchbox with a picture of a beetle on it. When John shook it, the insect inside fluttered, emitting a high-pitched screech. The bug was very appropriately named. John smirked.

"Yeah, it's funny to you," Beeman said. "But to the fallen it's like nails on a chalkboard."

"What is it exactly with you and bugs?" John asked. He suspected that it was only a matter of time before Beeman gave him something insect-related.

"I just like them," Beeman said defensively. I half expected him to add "they're my friends."

"Yeah, who doesn't?" John said, skilfully avoiding confrontation. I could tell he liked Beeman same as I did. An amusing, handy guy to have on your side. Sort of like the gadgets dude in just about every spy or action movie.

Beeman placed a long metal tube with one end you could squeeze on the table. John picked it up. "Yeah, easy there, hero," Beeman advised. "That's dragon's breath."

Constantine looked in wonder at the tube. "Thought you couldn't get it any more."

"Yeah, well, I…" Beeman cleared his throat and shrugged. "…know a guy who knows a guy." He smirked. As did I. It must have been some tricky business trading to get it and I could tell Beeman was proud to present it to Constantine. I also smiled because Beeman's glasses had gone crooked.

John aimed the tube away from us and squeezed one end. A roaring shot of fire erupted out of the other end. It was very impressive. The flames left behind the stink of brimstone and that odd little smell lizards sometimes have, only magnified times a hundred. I was briefly reminded of the smell Nightcrawler left when he teleported, only without the added dragon element. John looked at Beeman with a pleased expression and put down the tube of dragon's breath.

I saw on the table another relic Beeman had delivered. It was a gold knuckleduster inscribed with religious symbols. I struggled to remember what my masters had told me it was made from. Oh yeah, "gold blessed by the Bishop Anicott during the crusades."

"So, uh…what's the action?" Beeman asked. He knew that John wouldn't need all this stuff if it wasn't for 'the mother lode' of jobs.

"I just pulled a solider demon out of a little girl," John replied. He leaned on his kitchen counter. "Looked like it was trying to come through." At Beeman's expression he added, "Yeah, I know how it sounds." It sounded impossible.

Beeman shook his head. "No, we're finger puppets to them, John, not doorways. They can work us, but they can't come through onto our plane."

Constantine sighed. He knew this. But he also knew what he saw. "Check the scrolls anyway. See if there's any precedent."

"Sure thing, John," Beeman said. He sounded like he was going to do it when he became bored next, just to humour him. He was handling an old folded scrap of fabric. He plopped it onto the table with the other relics. I knew what it was; a piece of Moses' shroud. It was extremely flammable, and when lit would produce a light bright enough to ward away and even destroy just about any demon who was attempting to attack. "Uh…anything else?" Beeman asked.

John looked down, like he was ashamed. He mumbled "Wouldn't happen to have anything for a, uh…?"

Beeman knew what he meant. He fished through the bag and produced a bottle of cough suppressant and a smile. "On the house."

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AN/ Be lucky my beta and I decided not to go with the title "You're Going to Die and Here is a Supply" for this chapter. lol. Thanks to the reviewers. 


	5. To Sum It Up

AN/ This chapter includes a summery of a deleted scene containing Ellie the half-breed. I decided to includeher into this fic because the film makers were pained to delete her. I also must say that it was difficult not to type the word 'she' when referring to Gabriel, as he was played by an actress. I caught myself out a few times, but I should be okay as far at that goes. Thank you to those who reviewed.

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Later that day, Constantine went to visit a half-breed demon acquaintance of his named Ellie. Now that he knew for sure he was going to die soon he was eager to see if he could negotiate with the two sides, see if one could cut him some slack. Ellie reminded him that her boss was waiting for him, that he couldn't wait to tear him up for all the demons he had exorcised back to Hell, that John was "the one soul he would come up here to collect himself." He would have no luck there. 

He asked her if she had seen or heard anything unusual.

"Nothing out of the ordinary in my day-to-day," she replied with a smile. "And brother, that's saying something."

I scowled at her, and had to bite my tongue to keep my comments to myself.

Constantine asked Ellie to "keep your ear to the ground."

She had laughed at that. "Most nights that's where it ends up anyway." She expressed that she was going to miss having "someone up here I can relate to."

John Constantine agreed with her.

Now John and I were in Chas' cab once again. It was pouring with rain as we sat, parked outside the Theological Society. Constantine had had a little too much to drink, and was trying to hide it. I sat with him in the back seat as he weighed up the pros and cons of going inside the building and having a chat to the Snob inside.

Anput and Chas were chewing on raspberry liquorice in the front. Chas wasn't very happy to be out and about and having to drive Constantine around in the rain. "All right, question," Chas said. "How much longer do I have to be your slave, John?"

Thunder rumbled in the distance. Constantine sighed. "You're not my slave, Chas. You're my very appreciated apprentice." Chas rolled his eyes. Constantine didn't notice. "Like Tonto or Robin. Or that skinny fellow with the fat friend."

I couldn't help but smile at the reference to Jay and Silent Bob.

"Right, so why then don't I apprentice something besides driving then, John?"

Constantine didn't answer. Instead, he opened the cab door. I took that has my cue to also exit the cab.

"John? John. I love our little talks, John," Chas called after him.

Constantine and I hurried into the building, him not noticing Angela slip in behind us.

Inside it seemed both warm and cold at the same time; warm because we were out of the rain, cold... well, because of one of the characters here. There were rows and rows of shelves of books. A blood-red carpet ran from the door to the far end of the room, where a grand fireplace was set into the wall. Above the fireplace there was an enormous painting depicting the crucifixion, mainly the moment when Jesus was stabbed with the spear. In front of the fireplace there were two people talking. One was of this world. The other wasn't. I could imminently tell which was which. So could Constantine. The being would also be able to detect John. He had the power to do that and then some.

Constantine walked with purpose, shaking rain off his coat. A young priest intern walked up, stopping us in our tracks. "May I take your coat, Mr Constantine?"

"No thanks, I'm not going to be staying long," he replied curtly.

The intern looked over John's shoulder. "How about you, ma'am?"

For the first time, John noticed Angela was there. She stepped up beside him. "Oh no, I'm not staying long either." She took a breath. "I really need to speak with him. It's very important."

I watched as John recognised her from the hospital. He didn't care about why she was there. "First come, first served."

Angela frowned and gave Constantine a double take. She looked him up and down, also recognising him. "Oh. So you're rude no matter where you are."

The two men by the fireplace shook hands and parted ways. The intern nodded and stepped aside. Constantine and Angela moved towards the fireplace, both going the same pace and with equal determination. They threw a look at each other, silently asking if this was meant to be more of a challenge then it already was. I had to move fast to catch up with my assignment. I admit I felt relief when Angela peeled off to greet the senior priest, Father Garret. Constantine continued on ahead to wards the person who was now standing with his back to us, facing the monstrous fireplace.

John slowed as he neared him. As did I. I gasped suddenly, eyes wide, as the figure before us spread his wings. I could only see them for a few seconds, - Constantine could always see them - but in those few seconds I took in all I needed to know. Actually, I already knew it, but to see it for real…I was in awe. The wings were huge, but still in excellent proportion to the rest of the body. The backs of them were dark grey, and I knew the undersides were lighter grey. These weren't the stereo-typical heavenly white wings. My first thought after "Wow!" was "Yep, definitely an angel." And who is one of the most famous angels? Gabriel, of course.

Constantine wasn't as impressed as I was. He circled around the plush, scarlet chairs that separated him and the winged figure in the expensive-looking suit. Gabriel was staring deep into the fire. He didn't even look at Constantine right away. I numbly followed my assignment. Something told me to keep a healthy distance from the half-breed angel, probably my knowledge of his near future. I willingly followed these instincts.

"I know what you want, son," Gabriel said, his voice very feminine, yet still extremely strong.

"Still keeping your all-seeing eye on me, Gabriel?" The angel turned to face Constantine. I was struck by the coldness of his sea-green eyes. "I'm flattered."

Gabriel licked his lips, studying John for a moment. He knew why he was here, seeking advice. "Well, I could offer something about how the shepherd leads even the most wayward of his flock…" He smiled coldly. I could see why they called him the Snob. "…but it might sound disingenuous."

My thoughts were briefly interrupted by me unintentionally tuning into the conversation Angela was having with Father Garret. Angela was arguing that Isabel should have a Catholic funeral, that she didn't commit suicide. The priest had to regretfully disagree. I wretched my thoughts from there and placed my attention back on Constantine and Gabriel. Constantine was now sitting in one of the chairs. Gabriel listened to him, hands in his pockets.

"I've been seeing some unusual soul traffic lately," John said. He rose to his feet. "You might consider giving me an extension." Gabriel moved to sit in the other chair while John stood by the fireplace. "I could do your side some good these days."

Ah, so John was trying to bargain with Gabriel. I shook my head sadly. It wasn't going to work.

Gabriel thought so too. "You still trying to buy your way into Heaven?"

Constantine scowled. "What about all the minions I've sent back? That alone should guarantee my entry."

"How many times have I told you?" Gabriel sounded like a parent or a primary school teacher who was trying to remain calm and patient with a stubborn child. Not angry, just frustrated slightly because he had to repeat himself so many times. "That's not the way this works."

Constantine approached the angel. Some of his anger seeped into his voice. "Why, haven't I served Him enough?" He found he couldn't hold Gabriel's gaze for long and he looked down. "What does He want from me?"

"Only the usual. Self-sacrifice, belief."

Now John let more of his anger show. He started to pace. "Oh, I believe for Christ's sake!" he spat. I had to step aside so he wouldn't hit me. I was a tad intimidated by him in this state and didn't want to bear the brunt of Constantine's anger. I moved behind the chair Gabriel sat in. It was as close as I dared get to the angel. Gabriel, who would have beared the brunt if he weren't massively more powerful than Constantine, wasn't intimidated in the least. He pointed a scolding finger at him.

"No, no, you _know_. And there's a difference. You've seen."

"I never asked to see. I was born with this curse." Constantine stormed back towards Gabriel.

"A _gift_, John," the angel corrected. "One that you've squandered on selfish endeavours." He stood up.

"I'm pulling demons out of little girls," Constantine snapped. "Who's that for?"

Gabriel faced him, his back to the fire. "Everything you've ever done, you've only ever done for yourself. To earn your way back into His good graces."

I sucked on my teeth. Gabriel had a good point there.

Constantine moved to a pedestal with a large Bible resting on it. "Impossible rules, endless regulations…" he snapped the Book closed and flung it angrily at Gabriel's feet. "…who goes up, who goes down, and why." The Bible landed with a mighty thud which echoed throughout the building and caught Angela's attention. I gulped. Constantine walked right up to Gabriel, got in his face. "You don't even understand us. You're the one who should go to Hell, half-breed."

"Careful, John," I said. Insulting an angel was not a clever move, especially one who really _had_ been on Earth for too long.

I couldn't see Gabriel's eyes clearly, but I knew that they glowed with unearthly power. I could feel it, the anger, the warning, the danger…and something else entirely that I couldn't put a name to. If I could sense that, then I knew Constantine could too. My assignment stepped back and all but collapsed in the angel's vacant chair. I could sense his weariness. He had his face down, staring at the carpet. I wanted to comfort him, but I didn't know how he would react to it. Then he asked the question everyone at one time or another asks: "Why me, Gabriel?"

The angel didn't answer right away. His eyes still burned supernaturally. I suspected he was fuming inside. _Everyone asks 'why me?'!_

"It's personal, isn't it?" Constantine muttered. "I didn't go to church enough, I didn't pray enough, I was five bucks short on the collection plate. Why?"

The angel swooped down to kneel in front of him. He looked into his eyes, and told him the blunt truth. "You're going to die young because you smoked thirty cigarettes a day since you were fifteen." Constantine looked away, not really wanting to hear this. It seemed for a brief time that he didn't want to know why after all. Gabriel fought to keep his gaze. "And you're going to go to Hell…" He shook his head sadly. "…because of the _life _you took."

There was a pause. Constantine looked into Gabriel's eyes. I caught myself mouthing Gabriel's last line with him. It summed up everything. "You're fucked."

Gabriel stood and turned away from him. Constantine, realising he was out of options, rose and headed for the door. I moved after him.

"I'm sorry," I told him, though I wasn't sure why. It wouldn't help much.

John paused briefly and looked hard at me. "You're not a spirit of death, are you?"

I couldn't answer that. The answer would be "no," but that wouldhave given him away the ending. So I could only sigh and look away. Constantine stormed out the door in a coughing fit. Now that he knew there was next to no hope, his cancer was reminding him that time was ticking.

It was still raining outside. We met up with Angela standing somewhat miserably on the steps, her arms folded in front of her chest against the slight chill. She and Constantine looked at each other. John went inside his pockets for a smoke.

"At least it's nice out," he muttered sarcastically. He could have just been talking to himself, or to Angela, or to me. It didn't matter. I eyed the cab still parked in front of the building hopefully, but knew John wasn't going to be sensible and get into it. "He always had a rotten sense of humour." John went for his lighter and lit the cigarette now between his lips. He blew smoke and bundled his coat around himself, preparing to make a run for it. "And his punch lines are killers." I sighed, not particularly wanting to run through the rain, but having no choice.

I reluctantly fell into step beside him as he walked out into the downpour. We walked past the cab and Chas opened his door to call to him. "John! Constantine, it's raining! John! Hey!" Then, because it was obvious John was doing everything he could to ignore him, Chas gave up and retreated back into the cab.

I allowed myself a tiny smile. Now at least Angela knew my assignment's name. She would be able to look him up and the story could progress. Constantine coughed harshly and my smile vanished. There was still a long, painful road ahead.


	6. Tough

AN/ This chapter deals with an issue that was brought up in a review for one of the earlier chapters, that Constantine wouldn't really like having a spirit following him around. This chapter was very difficult to write, so I hope you enjoy it. Thanks again to the reviewers.

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"John?" I said quietly. He didn't respond as we walked through the rain. I cleared my throat and tried again, feeling like I was standing on thin ice. "John?"

"What?" He snapped.

"Maybe we should go see Midnite."

"Why?"

I shrugged. John stopped and turned to face me. I cringed under his gaze. "Look, just leave me alone, spirit, or Bastet, or whoever the hell you are. I don't want your help. No one can help me. You haven't done a thing to make my life better or to help me get out of going to Hell. I'm sick and tired of you following me around all the fucking time. Whatever is going to happen to me, I can handle it on my own. So _fuck off!_"

I felt like my insides had been doused in cold water. No one had ever ranted at me like that before. I was shocked. Constantine stormed off and ducked inside a gas station, presumably to buy more smokes or something. Briefly, I felt mad and like I was going to cry. I forced those feelings away. If anything, I was now even more determined. He didn't think he would need me? Well, tough. He did. I wasn't going to go away.

I received mental flashes of Hennessey surfing the ether and reading about Isabel's suicide. Then they changed to Angela watching the surveillance video of her sister on the roof of the hospital, turning to camera, and whispering "Constantine." Puzzled, Angela rewound the video on her computer, but this time Isabel was silent. She jotted down the name Constantine, deciding to investigate him. Then, for seemingly no reason, all of the phones in Angela's apartment started to ring with no one on the other end of the line…

I closed my eyes and shook my head to relieve myself of these images. I suppose it was good that I saw them because they told me that the story was progressing, but they also distracted me from my assignment.

John exited the gas station, saw me standing there, and turned away. He was heading for the road. I knew in a sudden rush of adrenaline that he was going to be attacked in a few minutes. I had to act.

I stomped up to him and hoped that I sounded brave. "You need to get your head out of your ass, Constantine."

He didn't seem to expect me to retaliate like this. He stopped and stared at me. Words continued to come out of my mouth. I put no thought into what I was saying, I just let myself go.

"You're not just some high and mighty exorcist. You're not as strong as you think you are, not any more. You think you can survive something like, oh, I don't know, a demon attacking you right here on the street? Do you really believe that? Then fine. I'll go. I'll let you be killed." I paused for a moment, thinking about where to go from there. "But I don't want to go," I continued. "As ridiculous and fucked-up as it seems to you, I want to stay and help you. I know you don't give a rat's ass about me, and that's cool. I can live with that. But," I sighed. "It's like when you pulled that demon out of the little girl. You didn't have to do it. I know you only did it because you think doing shit like that will get you into Heaven, but still, you didn't _have_ to do it. That's like me. I don't have to be here, saving your ass, but I am. People who don't accept help when it's offered are idiots. You've been shutting out people for too long. If you want to live and if you want to go to Heaven, kindly deflate your ego and just…" I sighed, running out of steam. Shaking my head, I realised that time was running out. "Think about what other people want for a change," I finished.

I walked down to the curb as thunder rumbled in the distance. Constantine followed, taking something he had bought out of a paper bag. It was more cough suppressant. As he took a swig of it, I noticed a man walking down the sidewalk towards us. A chill passed through my nerves. A black crow seemed to fly out of the man and passed us at about waist height. Constantine eyed it, though it was difficult to make out clearly in the rain.

I looked where John seemed to be staring and saw a giant billboard across the street. Bold white letters told John "**Your Time is Running Out.**" I almost smiled at the irony. The rest of the add on the other side of a new 4x4 Equinox read "**To Buy a New Chevy.**" Bummer. Oh well. I don't think a new Chevy was at the top of John's wish list at the moment.

I tried to sound calm as I asked John "Do you still have that screech beetle in your pocket by any chance?"

Before John could answer me, he lapsed into a violent coughing fit. He was forced down to his knees, hacking into the gutter as a rat ran past. I dared to put a hand on his shoulder, but I wasn't concentrating on him. I was gathering my strength and power, feeling it build in my chest as the mysterious man walked closer.

I heard John stop coughing suddenly. I glanced down and saw a large crab crawling over his hand. He must have thought it very odd. He flicked it away, suspecting that something very wrong was about to happen.

"Hey, hey buddy, got a light?" a male voice asked, accompanied by a foul odour like rotting eggs. I narrowed my eyes, my breathing shallow and my muscles tense.

Constantine may have felt me tense up, or he may have physically sensed the demon before us. Either way, he had to be sure. He looked up at him and took a matchbox out of his pocket. Before he could shake it, the demon roared and lunged, hitting Constantine. The demon's coat, which was make out of winged termites, fluttered and buzzed with a ungodly noise. The matchbox flew from Constantine's hand, and when it hit the ground the beetle inside let out a screech in protest. The demon dissolved into a swarm of insects and reformed on top of Constantine, strangling him with crab-claw fingers.

Constantine struggled and managed to backhand the demon. I gathered my courage and power and struck the demon as well. It felt awful. I went right through it, but I used my powers to knock in a magical blow. It was utterly disgusting, and although I don't know how much damage I did to it, it was still affected. It couldn't see me, and so assumed Constantine had dealt it the blow. It punched him, sending bugs and insects flying and scurrying.

Constantine's hand was only inches away from the screech beetle's matchbox. He stretched his arm as far as it would go, grasping for it. "The pole!" I shouted. Constantine's hand slammed onto a white pole, the remains of a sign that had been broken. He managed to lift it and bring it down hard near the matchbox. The screech beetle whirred and clicked in alarm.

The demon seemed to weaken and spasm for a moment, long enough for Constantine to smack it with the pole. It got off him, and Constantine was able to grab the matchbox. He shook it and the demon dissolved into buzzing insects and flew around him. The swarm engulfed Constantine, who turned, trying to track where the demon would rematerialise. When it did, it grabbed Constantine. A face made out of snakes, rats, beetles, centipedes, spiders, and other vermin sneered at him.

"Should've minded your own business, exorcist," it growled.

Then I did the almost unthinkable; I shoved the demon with all my strength and power. Just then, Constantine also shook the matchbox. The resulting effect caused the demon to go berserk. It yelled and demineralised, giving Constantine a chance to run. He darted out into the street, narrowly missing traffic. Car horns beeped in annoyance as Constantine threw himself into a forward roll to dodge a vehicle. Slightly disoriented and feeling like my skin was covered in bugs, I struggled to collect my wits, staggering into traffic.

The demon appeared, snarling before Constantine. Constantine simply tossed the matchbox over his shoulder. The demon made to lunge at him, and was promptly struck with a car. The same car, now covered in bug and vermin goo sideswiped me. I cried out and was thrown to the ground. I lay gasping in pain as Constantine proceeded to stamp and kick any creatures that remained of the demon he could find. Only when he was finished that did he notice that I was in trouble.

He approached me, ignoring for the moment the angry drivers around us. "You okay?"

"I just got hit by a car! What do you think?" I gasped.

"We've got to get out of here. Can you stand?"

"Yeah, just a sec." I took three deep breaths and willed myself to my feet. I was pleasantly surprised when John offered me a hand up. My left side, the side that was hit, was extremely sore. My elbow felt like it should be broken. I could also feel some other scrapes from when my skin met pavement. I knew that I would be fine though, and recovery should be fast. Constantine helped me limp to the curb. "I just got to sit for a moment," I said, lowering myself as gently as I could to the ground.

"Do you need to go to a hospital or something?" Constantine asked. I looked at him, hoping he wouldn't get too out of character.

"No. I'll be okay. Been stabbed through the chest before, remember? A little thing like being hit by a car? No problem." I experimentally wriggled my left fingers. I felt some pain, but the more I wriggled them, the better it got. I managed to cup both my elbow and hold my side in my right hand. I took a few more deep breaths. And looked at John again. "I'm fine," I repeated. "On the bright side, the pain is making me forget the feeling I got when I passed through that thing."

John started coughing again, but only slightly. I sighed. "We should go to Midnite's. That demon shouldn't have been here."

"Yeah, you're right," Constantine said. He looked thoughtful. He might have been thinking about using the chair, or about what just happened. Maybe both.

Just then, Chas in his yellow cab pulled up, or at least he pulled up as close as he could to the chaotic scene on the road. He hopped out of the cab, Anput on his heels. Her eyes widened with worry when she saw me, and imminently rushed to my side.

"Bastet, what happened? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I replied. "You know that car that hit the vermin demon? I just got sideswiped by it."

"Oh my God," my sister sounded shocked. She looked at my injuries and also determined that I would be okay, despite the trauma. Ah, the wonders of being a spirit.

Chas was slightly freaked by the scene before him. "Holy shit, John, what happened?"

"I was attacked by a demon," John replied. Chas was close enough so only he, my sister and I could hear. No one else was paying attention.

Chas was gob smacked. "What, just now? In the street?"

"Yeah." John looked back at me. I got to my feet. I was a bit shaky, but already doing a lot better. I straitened my left arm and only winced slightly in pain. Constantine seemed satisfied that I had recovered enough. "Come on," he said, heading for the cab.

Chas bounded after him and got back in the driver's seat. John held the door open a moment for me to slip in without having to pass through the door. I smiled my thanks as he slipped in beside me. "Where are we going?" Chas asked as Anput got into the car.

"Just drive," John said, lighting a smoke.

Chas did as he was told, casting one last look back at the chaos and confusion Constantine had caused to the road.


	7. Papa Midnite's

When we arrived at our destination John told Chas to stay in the car. The apprentice was having none of it. He was much too excited. He and Anput hopped out at the same time Constantine and I did. They struggled to keep up as we crossed a busy road. I had recovered enough to be able to keep up the pace.

"I know where you're going, John," Chas said. "I know where you're going. You're going to Midnite's."

Constantine blew smoke and glanced at Chas as he caught up to him. "Aren't you supposed to be waiting in the cab?"

This seemed extremely unreasonable to Chas. He began to spew out all the information he had ever heard about Midnite and his bar. "It's a haven for those who rise and those who fall. I remember reading about this, John."

"You read too much, kid. It's a bar," Constantine said. We turned down the sidewalk that led to Midnite's

"It's a bar?" Chas repeated, and again, "It's a bar," now like he couldn't believe this. "Papa Midnite is a crusader for good. He swore the oath of neutrality. John, the man's a legend."

Constantine, of course, already knew all of this. He had fought with Midnite back in the day when they were close friends. "Yeah."

"Can you please get me into this bar, John? Please? I'm begging you, John, please?"

A smile crept onto my face, and when I looked at Anput I saw she had one too. I made a slightly mocking puppy dog face, fluttering my eyelashes. My sister had to bite her tongue not to laugh.

Constantine and Chas stopped. "Sure, you can get in," John told him.

"I can get in?" Chas repeated with a hopeful smile.

"If you can get in." Constantine walked away, puffing on his smoke. I knew what he meant by this. There was a psychic test to be able to get in. You had to guess the figure on a card. I felt a certain smugness at not having to take the test.

"If I can get - ? It's a bear, though, right?" Chas hollered after us. "Or two ducks, two ducks in a cloud?"

Constantine and I descended the stairs to the entrance to Midnite's. Everything was lit by a red light. All other colours except for black were washed out by the red. I had to blink a few times to adjust to it, and even then it still hurt my eyes a bit. A very large, intimidating man stood by a small table and a rope that sectioned off the rest of the bar. As Constantine and I approached, he held up a card. On the side facing us was a picture of dolphins leaping, but it was the side facing the guard we had to guess.

"Two frogs on a bench," Constantine said, not even bothering to stop. The guard unhooked the rope and Constantine and I stepped through, not looking back. I couldn't hear Chas as he tried to get through, but I knew he would be unsuccessful. He would rue that rat in a dress.

Constantine and I walked through to the main area of the bar. Everything was still red, but now loud music was playing. I kept very close to John as we passed various beings. Half-breed demons with red eyes feasted like a pack of rabid wolves on a squirming bag of…_something_. One looked up at Constantine as he passed. Constantine looked away. A few meters over on the other side were some tall beings in sharp suits. They reminded me of Gabriel. One with glowing yellow eyes leant over some wine glasses full of water and blew on them. The liquid darkened. I figured that was the old water into wine trick. Constantine continued to move, never slowing, never speaking to anyone. I saw a female being with glowing red eyes - half-breed demon - sitting in the lap of a being with glowing yellow eyes - an angel half-breed. The demon was licking the angel's ear. They both looked like they were daring anyone who wanted to challenge what they were doing to come forward. I adverted my eyes, not wanting to know their backstory.

Constantine stopped in front of a red padded door in an area of the bar lit with cool blue lights. He waited, staring at the door. He knew Midnite would be able to sense him there. After a few seconds, the door swung open. A man with a moustache and what looked like half of a burned face stepped out. He and Constantine eyed each other as the man passed. Then John and I stepped into Midnite's room. The door swung closed behind us.

Papa Midnite was sitting at his desk smoking a cigar. He didn't bother looking up at Constantine. "Don't get up," John said, holding out an arm. He walked over to a chair, picked it up, and carried it to Midnite's desk.

"You've been absent some time," Midnite commented. "Have you come here with relics to sell?"

I moved to stand behind and slightly to the left of Constantine's chair, trying to ignore the hairs that were rising on the back of my neck. "No, I'm out of that now. I've been too busy," Constantine said as he sat down.

Midnite could sense that Constantine's health wasn't one hundred per cent. "Perhaps peddling forgeries has ended up being bad for your health."

"Midnite, Jesus," Constantine said. This was obviously an issue that had been going on for some time. "I thought the thing was authentic."

There was a pause. I thought for a second I could feel some energy coming off of the black-skinned witchdoctor. "I see now," he said quietly, discovering the cancer in Constantine's lungs. "Your health is bad for other reasons. How long?"

Constantine was fishing in his pockets for another smoke. "A few months, maybe a year."

"I thought I heard thunder last night." Midnite flicked ash from his cigar into a tray. "Must have been Satan's stomach growling." He took a puff and blew smoke. My nose was starting to itch. The cigar smoke was worse than the cigarette smoke. "You're the one soul he'd come up here himself to collect," Midnite reminded him.

Constantine flicked open his lighter. "So I've heard." He lit his cigarette.

"Well, I am most certain that you did not come here for a sympathetic shoulder to cry on."

I translated this in my mind: _Why did you come here, unannounced, to talk to me? You must need something. Get on with it. _I crossed my arms over my chest, wincing slightly at the bruise that was still on my left side.

Constantine sighed, blew smoke, and pocketed his lighter. "A demon just attacked me, right out in the open on Figueroa."

This didn't impress Midnite. "They don't like you, John. How many have to deported back to Hell?"

"Not some angry half-breed, Midnite. A full fledged demon, here, on our plane."

"Clearly I do not have to remind you that is impossible."

Constantine knew that. But it _did_ happen. It was evidence of something bigger about to happen. "And yesterday," he continued."I saw a solider demon trying to chew it's way through a little girl."

I could tell Midnite was struggling to remain patient. Similar to Gabriel, he adopted the frustrated school teacher tone. "Listen, John, demons stay in Hell, angels in heaven…the great détente of the original superpowers."

Constantine was getting equally frustrated. "Thanks for the history lesson, Midnite. You've been a tremendous help. Now…" He stood up and took a breath. "I need to use the chair."

Midnite looked at him as if he were crazy. "John, forgetting the fact that it would almost certainly kill you, you know I am neutral. And as long as the balance is maintained, I take no sides."

Constantine took an angry puff on his smoke and crushed it out into the carpet. "Before you were a bartender you were one witchdoctor against, what, thirty Ashgar?" I sighed. John was trying to use the friendship he and Midnite once had to sway him. "And I -"

Midnite cut him off. "You were Constantine. _The_ John Constantine. Once." In essence, Midnite was reminding him that he _used_ to be great. He had a name that at one time everyone respected and feared. Things were changing now.

Constantine leaned on the desk, still insistent. "This isn't the usual game, I can feel it. Something's coming." I bit my lip. He was right.

"Ooh, spooky," a man's voice said. I jumped, and when Constantine and I saw who it was, rolling a gold coin over his fingers, our hackles raised.

"Balthazar." Constantine said the half-breed demon's name like a curse word.

Balthazar chuckled and sighed happily. "That expression alone has made my entire night."

"I'll make your night." Constantine began to move towards him menacingly. His tone developed an edge like granite. "I'll deport your sorry ass right where you stand you half-breed shit!"

As Constantine reached into his pocked for a special type of weapon, Midnite slammed a fist on his desk, sending dishes and other items clattering. The noise stopped Constantine in his tracks. He looked at him. "You know the rules of my house," Midnite reminded Constantine in a stern voice. "While here you _will_ abide by them."

In other words, Constantine could do nothing to Balthazar while he was here. Pity.

Now Balthazar had the floor. "Johnny boy." Constantine looked at him, repulsed. The half-breed got right into his face, unafraid. I glared at him. "Word is, you're on your way down. Fresh meat." The half-breed licked his fingers, his eyes glowing red. He hissed in Constantine's ear, causing him to flinch away. "Finger-licking good."

I growled at Balthazar, moving to stand beside Constantine. No one talks to my assignments like they are pieces of chicken and gets away with it. Unfortunately, that was just what was going to have to happen, this time.

"We have a meeting now, John," Midnite said as Balthazar sat in Constantine's chair.

Constantine turned around and looked as if he was going to say something. Instead, he started to cough. It was the same type of violent coughing he had done in the street before the demon attack. I looked at him, worried.

Balthazar glanced over his shoulder. "What? I didn't catch that."

I shot him an angry glare as John ran out of the room. I followed him as he raced, hunched over, through the strobe-lit bar, dodging dancers and party-goers. He was coughing into a handkerchief, and Iknew that by the end, that handkerchief would be splattered with his blood. We ran past the guard in the red room, and up the stairs to the street above, where Constantine nearly collapsed. Chas and Anput, who were waiting patiently for us to emerge, rushed over.

"John? Jesus, are you okay?" Chas asked. He looked slightly panicked.

Constantine managed to get his coughing under control at last. He nodded to Chas, not trusting his voice enough to speak yet. Chas' eyes widened when he saw the bloody cloth in Constantine's hand.

"Were you just coughing up _blood_?"

Constantine cleared his throat. "Yeah. You know I've been sick for a long time."

"Yeah, but I never guessed…what is it? What do you have?"

"Don't worry about it," John said. "I'm sure your little spirit guide can explain it to you."

Now Chas looked even more panicked. As did Anput and I. "Spirit guide?" Chas squeaked. "I…I don't know what you're talking about, John."

"No, John. You shouldn't talk about the spirit guides, _remember_?" I said, a hint of warning in my voice.

Constantine sighed and started walking back to the cab. "Let's go."

"Where are we going now?" Chas asked, falling into step beside him.

"Home," Constantine replied.

"Yeah, sure, John." Chas still seemed a bit shaken by the blood on Constantine's handkerchief and his reference to Anput. I could hear my sister comforting Chas, telling him that she wasn't going to leave him over that and she'll explain things to him later. I looked up at the night sky and sighed. John wasn't going to be getting any more sleep for a long time.

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AN/ Thanks to my reviewers. I hope you liked this chapter. 


	8. His Life

Back in his apartment above the bowling alley, John Constantine was in a foul mood. He had started drinking, and was consuming cigarettes at an alarming rate. I hoped that Spirits like me couldn't get lung cancer, because I certainly was at risk of becoming a victim of passive smoking. I didn't bother trying to talk to Constantine. I felt like I had said all I needed to say for now. One good thing was that John hadn't told me to 'fuck off' again. I guess he figured that while he didn't like the idea of me following him around all the time, he would still be able to put up with me until I had to leave. After all, I _did _help him fight off that demon. Plus I had gotten injured in the process, so it was a sort of personal sacrifice. All in all, maybe he felt that I really wasn't _that_ bad to have around.

Still, he was ignoring me now, avoided looking at me. I wasn't too bothered. I knew it was only a matter of time before he snapped out of this funk he was in. I suppose he was entitled to a bit of misery before he encountered what lay ahead.

I watched, leaning against the far wall opposite Constantine, as he drained the liquor from his glass. He spotted a small spider crawling across the table and promptly trapped it beneath the glass. He sucked hard on his cigarette, leaned over, and filled the glass with smoke from his diseased lungs. The spider, if left there for long enough, would die from the poisonous air it was trapped in. I frowned. I didn't particularly like or dislike spiders. I would never keep a pet tarantula and I would despise having one crawl over me, but I still respected the important part they played in nature. This was a particularly nasty way for it to go.

"Welcome to my life," Constantine muttered to the spider.

There was a knock at the door and a ghost of a smile appeared on my face. "About time she arrived," I muttered quietly.

Constantine answered the door. He only opened it a crack, so I couldn't see the person on the other side. I knew who it was though. The sound of her voice sealed it for me.

"Mr Constantine," Angela Dodson said. My smile widened. I knew exactly how she felt, standing at his door. There was a pause. Angela must have wondered whether or not he recognised her. "I saw you-"

"I remember," he cut her off.

Another pause as her mind did a quick fast forward. "And then I saw you at-"

He interrupted her again. "Regular kismet."

I know it sounds repetitive, but I had to smile again. It _was_ fate that was bringing them together. I had purposely not mentioned Angela before, not even after we kept running into her. Despite this, Constantine must have known that I knew this was going to happen.

"I'd like to ask you a few questions, if that would be okay," Angela said.

"I'm not really in a talking mood right now." He went to shut the door in her face. I heard her hand thump against the door as she blocked it.

"Well, maybe you could just listen, then." There was a pause as she flashed her badge. "Please."

Constantine smirked slightly to himself and stepped aside. "Always a catch," he muttered.

Angela hesitated before crossing the threshold. Her gaze drifted up the door frame, looking at the symbols carved in the wood. They were meant to help protect Constantine's apartment from any malevolent being that wished to enter. I noticed she didn't close the door behind her. I guess she figured she wouldn't be staying long. Constantine also assumed this.

Constantine picked up a fresh cigarette from the packet on the table. Angela watched him. "My sister was murdered yesterday."

"Sorry to hear," Constantine said, lighting his cigarette. I nodded. It was an appropriate thing to say. Would have been even better if he had actually faced her when he said it, but I had to remind myself that Constantine didn't really care about Angela…yet.

"Thanks," she said. "She was a patient at Ravenscar. She…" her voice faltered for a moment as Constantine snapped his lighter closed. "…jumped off the roof."

"I thought you said she was murdered," Constantine remarked. He moved to collect another bottle of liquor, though I knew he had no intention of offering her a glass.

"Yeah, well, Isabel wouldn't have taken her own life," Angela insisted.

Constantine returned with a bottle. "Yeah, what kind of mental patient kills herself?" He stopped and looked at her. "That's just crazy."

I winced on Angela's behalf. She barely faltered, though I could tell that the sadness in her brown eyes became a little deeper.

Constantine grabbed a glass from on top of the fridge and approached the table, settling the bottle down on top of it. Angela also approached the table. She stood directly in front of me, forcing me to move over to the left so I could see them both.

"Look, I've heard your name around the precinct," the detective told him. I began to wonder how many times she had rehearsed this speech on her way over. Constantine uncorked the bottle and poured himself a glass as she spoke. "I know the circles you travel in. The occult, demonology, exorcisms. Just before my sister was committed, she became deeply paranoid."

Constantine sat and took a sip of his drink, studying her. I suspected already that there was something about her that he liked, but he didn't want to admit it to himself, didn't want another girl following him around.

"She started talking about demons, angels." Angela continued. "Now, I think someone got to her, Mr Constantine. I think they brainwashed her into stepping off that roof. Some kind of legion or, um, cult."

"Sounds like a theory, detective," Constantine said evenly. "Good luck."

"Well, I thought that with your background you could at least point me in the right direction," Angela said.

"Yeah, okay, sure." Constantine raised an arm, and with the same hand that was holding both his drink and his smoke, pointed out the open door.

Angela didn't want to give up. "It wasn't a suicide," she insisted calmly. "My sister was a devout Catholic." Constantine shook his head slowly. He could see where this was going. "Do you understand what that means? That means that if she had taken her own life-"

"Her soul would to straight to Hell," Constantine finished. There was a hardness in his voice that subtlety expressed his own fear. He was describing what was going to happen to himself when he died. "Where she'd be ripped apart, over and over, in screaming, brutal agony for all eternity. That it? That about right?"

Angela looked like she wanted to pummel him. She circled around to his side of the table. She leaned close to him and stared him hard in the eyes. "Goddamn you," she stated angrily. Then she released the trapped spider from its smoky prison. Surprisingly, it scuttled away, seemingly none the worse for wear. I cocked my head as I spotted the metaphor this represented; Angela freeing a trapped someone from misery. Angela stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

A sigh escaped from my chest. Constantine took another sip of his drink. A wind began to blow, slamming against the windows of the apartment. The wind couldn't quite disguise the sound of scaly wings flapping, demonic beasts snarling. The jugs of holy water rumbled like a freight train was heading our way. I could suddenly detect a faint whiff of sulphur. "John!" I said in alarm, but he already knew. He jumped up with a speed that startled me, grabbed his coat, and was out the door. I was hot on his heels.

"They're after Angela, the detective," I panted as we ran. "You've got to help her understand everything. She's _very_ important in the big picture."

Constantine could only nod, not trusting his lungs to be able to cope with the strain of running and talking at the same time. He knew that if the flying demons had wanted him, they could have easily gotten him before. The fact that they were targeting Angela must mean that she, or her sister, was in some way critical to the 'big thing' that was going to happen. He didn't know how or why yet, but that would come later.

Constantine and I sprinted down the street. Luckily, Angela hadn't gotten far. She was slightly startled by Constantine's appearance beside her. We started to walk with her to her car. "Detective, what if I told you that god and the devil made a wager," Constantine said, glancing around him, looking for the demons. I started doing it too. "A kind of standing bet for the souls of all mankind?"

"I'd tell you to stay on your meds," Angela replied flatly.

"Humour me," Constantine insisted. "No direct contact with humans. That would be the rule." Angela passed in front of us and walked into the street to where her SUV was parked. She looked down the road to see if anyone was coming. The street was totally deserted. "Just influence," Constantine continued. "See who would win."

"Okay, I'm humouring you." Angela said. Behind us, Constantine and I could hear the street lights begin to go out, one by one. We were running out of time. "Why?"

"Who knows. Maybe just for the fun of it. No telling." More streetlights went out. The darkness was creeping closer.

Angela wasn't impressed by Constantine's answer. "Oh, so it's fun. It's fun when a man beats his wife to death, it's fun when a mother drowns her own baby." She stopped in front of her driver's side door. "And you think the devil is responsible?" She shook her head briefly. She had seen a lot of horror during her life in the L.A.P.D. "_People_ are evil, Mr Constantine. People." She went to unlock her door.

"You're right," Constantine admitted. "We're born capable of terrible things."

"And you should know," I thought to myself. "I know that you had a twin too, but your umbilical cord strangled him in the womb." I didn't say this aloud. It was an extremely touchy subject for Constantine, and this was neither the time, nor the place.

"Then sometimes something else comes along and gives us just the right nudge," Constantine continued. I couldn't help but notice how much the darkness had gown around us.

"Well, this has been real educational, but I don't believe in the devil."

"You should," Constantine said. "He believes in you."

Angela searched his eyes, trying to find the joke, or any sort of lie. There was none.

By now, the lamp post we were standing under had died along with the many that already had. We looked up the street. The lights were going out now at a quickening pace. It was the same in the other direction. The darkness moved towards us like a hungry, living thing, a monster in your closet.

"It's a power outage," Angela said, sounding like she was half trying to convince herself. The only light left in the street came from a window display across the road depicting the Virgin Mary.

"Not likely," Constantine said, eyeing the darkness, trying to guess where the attack was going to come from. The sound of fluttering wings could now be heard. Angela's car door locked itself. She looked at it, puzzled.

"What…?"

Constantine grabbed her arm. "We should go. Now."

"Good idea," I said nervously. I knew I had nothing to fear, but that didn't mean I wanted to face the demons flapping unseen above us.

We only made it part way before Angela pulled her arm from Constantine's grip. She stared up at the black, foreboding sky, placing a hand on her gun. Constantine hesitated, wanting to make sure she got to safety. I also had to hesitate, though I wanted to get closer to the still lit Virgin.

"What is that?" Angela asked of the noise.

Constantine listened for a second. "Wings…maybe talons," he concluded as we backed towards the light.

"The shroud," I said. I detected some fear in my voice. "You should use the shroud, Constantine."

"You're kidding," Angela said, amazed and afraid. But Constantine wasn't kidding. She could tell that herself. "Of what?"

John took my advice and took Moses' shroud out of his pocket. He began to wrap it around his hand. "Something that's not supposed to be here."

"'Demons stay in Hell,' right?" I chuckled, quoting Midnite. "Yeah, right."

One of the flying demons swooped at Angela. She ducked and whipped out her gun. Constantine saw this as he headed with me to the statue. "That's really not going to help," he advised her. By now, even the lights around the Virgin were slowly going out. Angela scampered to Constantine's side. I hid behind him. "Close your eyes," Constantine said.

"Why?" Angela asked.

There was no time for Constantine to explain. "Suit yourself."

The last of the lights around Mary dimmed until they went out. I held my breath, but couldn't close my eyes. I had to see it. There was a moment of silence, then the click of John's lighter as he lit the shroud. Instantly a blazing white light illuminated the street…and the flying demons who were swooping down towards us. Angela was forced to cringe away from the sight. My eyes were somehow able to take it all in. The demons screeched and attempted to escape, only to be incinerated by the light. The hell-things turned into embers floating gently down to earth as all the lights suddenly came back on. The light from the shroud faded just as quickly as it had appeared. Constantine shook the still burning remains of the relic from his hand. The air reeked with sulphur, causing me to cover my mouth. Constantine strolled into the street, wiping his hands. I followed him.

"Demons stay in Hell, huh? Tell them that," Constantine said.

I looked around. Everything seemed cheerily normal. It was eerie. I remembered the name of those flying demons, condemned to stay in the air forever due to their lack of legs. My Masters had called them Seplavites.

Behind us came the sound of Angela retching. I wrinkled my nose, having just gotten over the skink of the demons myself.

Constantine glanced over his shoulder at her. "Don't worry," he said, taking out a smoke. "Happens to everyone the first time. It's the sulphur."

"Sulphur," Angela repeated, trying to let it all sink in, that what she had seen was real. Constantine lit his smoke. "What were those things?" Angela demanded.

Constantine took a puff and turned to her. "Demons." He took a few steps in her direction. I thought it best to follow him, not wanting to be hit by another oncoming vehicle. "Scavengers of the damned."

Angela struggled to maintain her hold on reality. Too bad for her that reality was changing. "No, no, that's impossible," she breathed. She backed towards the statue of Christ's mother, not wanting to stray too far from her gentle protectiveness just yet.

"Yeah. And I don't think they were after me," Constantine said. I smiled to myself. He had listened to me before.

Angela looked at him with frightened tears in her eyes.

"You really believe she wouldn't commit suicide."

"Isabel? Never in a million years." Angela was dead-set on this notion. Constantine was developing an idea.

"Well, let's be sure," he said. "Let's see if she's in Hell."

Suddenly a bus zoomed pass behind Constantine and I. I almost jumped. Here was normal life reclaiming its territory like nothing ever happened. I sighed. When I saw Angela, I noticed that she _had_ been startled by the bus. I smirked.

"Do you have Isabel's things from the hospital?" Constantine asked.

"Yeah," Angela said, trying to calm down.

"Can we go back to your apartment?"

Angela studied him for a few seconds, before finally answering "okay."


	9. Hellblazer

AN/ In case you couldn't tell, the title of this chapter is in reference to the Hellblazer comics John Constantine's character comes from. Thanks again to the reviewers and Troy who gave me many helpful ideas for this chapter. Hope you enjoy.

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Angela's apartment was right next to the Los Angeles freeway. If you listened for it, you could hear the rumble of the traffic, like blood through the city's aorta. Angela was in the kitchen filling a pan with water, as Constantine had requested. John was going through a box of Isabel's stuff from the hospital.

"Just so you know, I'm going with you," I told my assignment. He knew what I meant.

"You sure about that?" he asked.

I nodded, naively confidant. "Yes. I'll be able to handle it."

John shrugged and continued to go through the box on Angela's desk.

I had imminently brightened upon my discovery of Angela's cat. I adore cats, and this one, though it had a plain grey coat and a very undignified name for a cat, had very enchanting green eyes.

The cat jumped up onto the desk as Angela brought in the water. "Oh, was it supposed to be hot or cold?" she asked Constantine.

He and I knew it didn't matter. "In front of the chair," Constantine ordered, pointing to the chair he had placed in the middle of the room.

Angela did as she was told. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she said. She didn't just mean the water. She meant the whole thing. Constantine hadn't exactly explained to her what he was about to do. All he had said was he was going to find out wether or not Isabel was in Hell. She assumed it would be like some sort of séance.

"These are all Isabel's things?"

"Yeah," Angela confirmed while stroking the grey feline.

"How about the cat?"

Angela smiled. "Duck? Yeah, why?"

Constantine and I sighed. "Duck," he muttered.

"Oh, you think _that's_ strange," Angela remarked as Constantine picked the cat up, grasping the feline under its armpits.

"Cats are good," he said. "Half in, half out anyway."

For some reason, this made perfect sense to me.

Constantine moved to the chair and sat down, placing Duck in his lap. I moved behind the chair and squeezed the back of it. Constantine sighed and made himself comfortable. I figured he might as well, because what he was about to do could not in any way be described as comfortable. He used his feet to swizzle the pan of water so that the ends of its oval shape pointed to and away from the chair.

Angela stood in front of Constantine with a frown on her face. She must have thought all this looked insane. Then she appeared to decide just to go with the flow. Her hands curled into fists and she sat cross-legged in front of the chair, looking and sounding like a teenage girl at a sleepover party playing with a Ouija board. "If this is some kind of spell or something, don't you need candles and a pentagram for it to work?"

"Why? Do you have any?" Constantine asked, deadpan. I knew he was only joking, or at least as much as John Constantine ever does. The fact was that Constantine was scared. I could tell he was trying to hide it. He did a good job.

"This is crazy," Angela said.

Constantine agreed with her. No one in their right mind should be doing this. "Yes." He placed his feet in the water without taking off his socks or shoes. I made a face. That must have been uncomfortable, but I knew it would be nothing compared to what was to come. "I need you to leave," he told Angela.

She looked at him. This _was_ her apartment, after all. "I'm sorry?"

"Angela, please."

I mentally finished this sentence. "Don't argue, don't question. Just do it."

Angela got up and moved to her bedroom.

"The apartment," John specified, turning Duck around so the cat was facing him.

Angela, being very tolerant and trusting, turned around. "Okay." She paused at the door before closing it, looking back at Constantine and the odd scene in her apartment. "Be careful with that cat," she warned.

Duck meowed at her in response.

Angela slowly closed the door.

"God, I hate this part," Constantine said quietly. I sighed, agreeing with him. I planned to subtly help him find the right psychic vibrations to open the gateway, though it should be easy for him with the cat there. He peeled the skin on the cat's face back, forcing it to expose its fangs and open its green eyes wide. I sensed Constantine connect with the cat, use it as a booster for his powers. Already the water in the pan began to boil. The front door wasn't even all the way closed yet. The lights around us began to flicker, each flicker dimming the light to near blackness. Time slowed. It felt as if the air was becoming heavy. The cat's already skinny pupils became narrower. I closed my eyes. Time slowed even more… then stopped altogether.

A very, _very_ hot wind suddenly gusted relentlessly around Constantine and I. I gasped, opening my eyes and looking around. We were still in the apartment, but now everything was burnt almost beyond recognition. The wind felt like it had come from an atomic blast. The entire black wall of the apartment was gone, as if a bomb had blown it away. Everything seemed hot and red. I suddenly felt very afraid. I tried to take a deep breath to force my rising fear down, only to choke on the searing atmosphere. My coughing triggered a dull ache in my side from where I was hit by the car. The air stank of sulphur, triggering me to gag from the sheer power of it. I realised that Constantine's lungs wouldn't take kindly to this environment for long. We would have to hurry or else he would die. I didn't want to even begin to think what would happen to me if I stayed here too long.

Constantine stood and walked towards where the back wall was. He paused and looked at the landscape - LA now uninhabitable except for the damned. He seemed to be pushing back old memories; nightmares of the past and his most likely future. I came up beside John, trying to hide my fear. I could feel myself sweating, and knew Constantine was doing the same, though it made no difference. It dried as fast as it came in the obnoxious heat. He took one of Beeman's holy water ampoules out of his pocket, knowing he would need it to get back. My eyes were as wide as they could go against the volcanic air, taking in every horrific detail. I blinked away tears as my eyes watered to protect them from the heat and blowing particles. Constantine looked at me and noticed my discomfort.

"Thought you said you'd be able to handle it," he said.

I tried once again to take a breath to calm myself, but ended up gagging again on the ash-filled air. It was like breathing in pure poison. I coughed, winced at the pain in my side, and regained my composure. I set my jaw, determined not to be beaten my this.

"I'm okay," I said, though I sounded like I wasn't. "Let's go. I don't want to stay here any longer that necessary."

With that, we headed towards the freeway, or at least, Hell's version of the freeway. It wasn't an enjoyable trip, but at least we didn't come across any demons. My left elbow began to hurt from climbing up onto the road, but I did my best to ignore it. I told Constantine that if Isabel _had_ committed suicide, then she would still probably at Ravenscar. To get there, we had to walk down the freeway. It was littered with the rusting shells of cars. The buildings and palm trees lining it were all ablaze. As we walked I tried in vain to block out the screams of the damned below us. The demons down there were having a field day with the souls of the sinners. I glanced around nervously, knowing it was only a matter of time before one of those demons took an interest in Constantine.

As we neared the hospital, we passed one particular car husk that I got a really nasty feeling from. I dared to peek inside and almost screamed when I saw the demon. It had no brain or eyes, just a nose and mouth, like the one that had possessed the little girl. "John," I said, alarmed. "They're catching on that you're here."

Constantine glanced back. "Hurry," he told me, then continued to focus on the hospital.

We spotted Isabel at the same time. She was the spitting image of Angela, only with longer hair and wearing a hospital nightgown. She was standing on the roof of Hell's version of Ravenscar, doomed to restage her suicide again and again for all eternity.

For Constantine, there was no doubt in his mind who she was. "Isabel."

She looked back over her shoulder and saw my assignment. "Constantine," she said. I strongly suspect it was a silent cry for help.

"She's going to take off her medical bracelet," I told my assignment. "If you can, grab it for evidence."

We watched as she did just as I predicted. John began to run. I trotted after him. The demons had gathered in a hungry pack and gave chase after us. Constantine looked back, saw them, and picked up speed. I was more than happy to keep pace, but as my injured side began to sting even worse than before, it became a real effort to keep up.

There was a wreck of a car that leaned up against a stack of others. As Isabel fell into the snapping mouths of hungry demons, this car became mine and Constantine's ramp. I grabbed onto his coat as demons snapped at our heels. Constantine and I leaped into the air, and in one motion he snatched the bracelet and smashed the holy water against his chest, breaking the glass.

For a moment, I felt like I was being sucked through a hot wind tunnel. Then the air suddenly became cool and still. I fell to the floor, sweating, shaking and gasping for air. "Never again," I muttered to myself between trembles. "The things I do for them…the things I do for my assignments…why did I go there?…He needed me to go there…oh, the things I do for them…I can't do that again…"

Constantine was in worse shape than I. The transition back into our plane had triggered a terrible coughing fit. His steaming, hacking body was bent over double in the chair. Only then did I notice my body was steaming too. I focused on the empty pan that had been kicked before me as I struggled to get my breath, wincing each time at the pain in my side. I had banged my bad elbow when I collapsed to the floor, so that was hurting too. Constantine managed to cough out the name "Angela," alerting her to our return.

She opened the door. Not even a second had past for her. An unharmed Duck ran past her into the hall, tail in the air. She looked in astonishment at Constantine. "Jesus," she breathed. I watched her approach him. "Constantine, what -?" She placed a hand on his back and imminently withdrew it as if she had been scalded.

"Twins," Constantine coughed.

"Jesus," Angela gasped, still reacting to Constantine's sudden rise in temperature. Then she dropped to her knees in front of him, realising he had said the word 'twins.' She hadn't told him her and Isabel were twins. "What?"

"You were twins," Constantine rasped.

Angela grabbed his face in her hands, tried to force him to look at her as he still struggled to breathe. "What did you say?"

"She killed herself."

"What?"

Constantine held up the scorched hospital band. I managed to rise to my knees, though I had to hold onto Constantine's chair for support. "And she's damned for it," Constantine managed to say.

Angela took the hospital band and read the name that was still on it in shock: **Dodson, Isabel**.

Constantine sat back, wheezing, but improving. Angela blinked and swallowed. When she looked at Constantine, tears were running down her face. "How is this possible?" she asked.

Constantine sighed. That was going to take a lot of explaining, but he seemed willing to oblige. I sighed as well and slowly got to my feet, still clutching my side as I recovered. Beads of sweat dotted Constantine's forehead. His voice was still quite horse. "I need to eat." He flopped forward again and I patted his back. Angela got to her feet.

"Sure, okay. Let's get out of here." she said. She seemed numb. "There's a little place just down the street a bit."

Constantine straightened up again and nodded. Angela helped him stand and the three of us left the apartment.


	10. The Balance

AN/ Hello everyone! Allow me to apologise profusely for my uncustomary delay in updating this fic. To put it simply, my computer crashed and I lost everything on it. Luckily for me, most of the rough drafts of this fic were saved on my beta's computer, so from now on this fic will be updated more frequently. Thank you for putting up with me and reviewing. Also thanks to Troy and Cameron who helped me improve this chapter.

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Constantine and I were still recovering from the effects of being in Hell as we walked with Angela down to the little outdoor food stall. It felt absolutely wonderful being out in the night air. Even the polluted atmosphere of L.A. felt and smelled like a rose garden. My recovery was unfortunately hindered by the flashes I received of what was happening to Father Hennessey at this time. They continued as John and Angela sat down and ordered some pancakes. For once, I ignored my assignment. My attention remained on Hennessy - what was happening to him was more important right now. 

I saw Father Hennessy at the morgue, examining Isabel's body. He discovered the mark of Mammon on her and something… _evil_ happened to him. I figured it was some type of possession. Distant voices began to garble in his head. He became parched, needing to drink anything and everything he could, _NOW_. He attempted to drink from his flask, but to him it seemed like nothing was coming out. This only made him more thirsty. Hennessy ran out of the morgue, past the guard, and into a liquor store across the street. He began grabbing bottles and trying to drink for them. In reality, he was chugging down more alcohol than his body could safely handle, but in his POV, Hennessy was only swallowing air. In his desperation, he resorted to smashing the necks off bottles, but this did nothing to improve his situation.

Balthazar calmly strolled into the store, eyeing for a second the Hispanic stock boy standing in apparent shock. In my mind, the simple fact that he was there told me he was the perpetrator of Hennessy's suffering. Hennessy and Balthazar passed each other in opposite isles. Hennessy was frantic, while Balthazar was almost curious. Hennessy stumbled and fell to the floor, taking several boxes and bottles with him. Balthazar smiled to himself. Hennessy managed to reach up onto the counter to drag down a container of bottle openers, showering himself in them. He grabbed one and opened it up, exposing the sharp corkscrew. His eyes raised to the heavens. "John…" he moaned, liquid seeping out of his mouth. I knew then for sure what he was doing. He knew he was going to die, but he wanted to leave an important message for Constantine. I winced in anticipation. This wasn't going to be pretty. Hennessy stabbed his left palm with the bottle opener, crying out in pain. He stabbed himself again and again. I knew these weren't random cuts he was making. A bloody pattern was forming in his palm.

From the back of the store, Balthazar watched Hennessey with interest. He sipped from a bottle of spring water, his eyes glowing red. I felt like punching him back to the pit he came from, but there was nothing I could do. I was merely a witness having a vision. It was like watching a film and wanting to kill the onscreen villain.

At last, Hennessey flopped onto his back. Alcohol gurgled up from his mouth. The stock boy was at his side as Father Hennessy took his last breath.

My attention suddenly snapped back to Constantine and Angela, sitting at the little eatery. It was like waking up from a dream and I had to shake my head and blink my eyes a few times to fully come to grips with my surroundings and remember where I was. Angela was sitting on one side of Constantine, I was on the other. I could smell eggs cooking on the grill. John was explaining to Angela his history in a nutshell, who was listening raptly. I didn't mind too much that Constantine was physically blocking me as he explained everything to Angela. It was rude, but I knew the story already. As he spoke, more flashes went through my mind, each one more unpleasant than the last. I couldn't block them any more than Constantine could block the memories.

"When I was a kid," Constantine said, pouring maple syrup on his pancakes. "I could see things. Things humans aren't supposed to see."

A young John Constantine was sitting on a bus. He was terrified of something, and was trembling, whimpering, his eyes wide. His panicked breathing was quick and shallow. He was staring at a white-haired woman sitting a few rows ahead of him.

"Things you shouldn't have to see."

I whole heartily agreed with him.

The woman turned, her face dissolving away grotesquely. John shut his eyes tightly, willing the monster to go away. When he dared to look again, the woman was gone. Then he gasped in horror as she appeared directly behind him…

"My parents were normal," Constantine continued. "They did what most parents would do. They made it worse."

A teenage John with long hair is held down on a table while a doctor delivers the electric shock to the brain…

I cringed and bit my lip. "They didn't know better," I murmured to myself. If my assignment heard me, he paid no notice. "They were scared and didn't know what to do. Even still…I don't think anyone deserves shock treatment."

"You think you're crazy long enough," Constantine said, looking at Angela. "You find a way out."

Teenage Constantine lying pale and motionless in an ambulance…

"You tried to kill yourself," Angela guessed.

"I didn't _try_ anything."

The ambulance raced through the streets of Los Angeles…which became the streets of Los Angeles in Hell…

"Officially, I was dead for two minutes," Constantine told us. "But when you cross over, time stops." He paused, remembering the pain of damnation. I wanted to comfort him, but I felt that I couldn't. Although part of him may have wanted it, I knew that Constantine wouldn't accept it. I sighed heavily and Constantine continued. "Take it from me, two minutes in Hell is a lifetime. When I came back…" he paused, his fork playing with what was left of the pancakes. "…I knew…all the things I could see were real. Heaven and Hell were right here. Behind every wall, every window." His eyes scanned the people walking past, assessing them for what they _really_ were. Where they _really_ came from. "The world behind the world, and we're smack in the middle. Angels and demons can't cross over onto out plane. So instead we get what I call half-breeds."

I received another sudden vision. _Balthazar slowly stalking the aisles of the liquor store…_

"The influence peddlers," Constantine explained. I heard his voice though my mind was across town. "They can only whisper in our ears, but a single word can give you courage or turn your favourite pleasure into your worst nightmare. Those with the demon's touch…"

Balthazar turned, his human skin dissolving to reveal the foul thing underneath…

"Like those part angel…"

The stock boy, still kneeling beside Hennessy's body, spread his angel wings protectively, warding the demon away from Hennessy's soul.

"…living alongside us. They call it the balance. I call it hypocritical bullshit," Constantine said. He poked at his food with his fork, his appetite waning. Angela sipped her drink thoughtfully. "So when a half-breed breaks the rules, I deport their sorry ass straight back to Hell. I don't get them all, but I've been hoping to get enough to ensure my retirement."

I smirked and cracked my knuckles. 'Retirement.' Interesting word to use, I thought.

"I don't understand," Angela said.

Constantine picked up his Styrofoam cup of coffee and looked at her. "I'm a suicide, Angela. When I die, the rules say I've got just one place to go."

"You're trying to buy your way into Heaven," Angela concluded.

"What would you do if you were sentenced to a prison where half the inmates were put there by you?"

It was a good analogy for Constantine's situation. He was particularly hated in the underworld, and the demons wouldn't hesitate to replicate ten fold the pain he had caused them.

Angela considered this for a moment. "I guess God has a plan for all of us."

That didn't fly with Constantine. "God's a kid with an ant farm, lady. He's not planning anything."

"When we were little," Angela said. "Isabel saw things too."

A small smile appeared on my face. Finally a bit of useful information had come out of her. It wasn't much, but for now it was possibly enough. I knew it would still be a while before she confessed everything to Constantine.

Angela might have said more, but at that moment, her phone rang. I felt a chill, knowing what the call was going to be about. She fished her phone out of her bag and answered it. "Dodson..."

Things were just as I had suspected. Angela was called in to investigate a case of a man who had broken into the morgue, then a bottle shop. Now he was lying dead on the floor. I told Constantine that he should go with her and he did without argument.

The scene at the shop was possibly more horrible in real life than it had been in my mind. Hennessey's corpse lay in the middle of the floor. There was broken glass and liquid spilled everywhere. A pack of cop cars were stationed out front. Constantine and I paused outside the store, eyeing the half-breed angel being interviewed by the police. I heard Detective Weiss describe what had happened to Angela as she circled the body.

"Guard spotted him groping the body, then he ran across the street. Came in here, and he had a go at the entire stock. He drowned himself in alcohol in under a minute." He shook his head sadly. "Could have been a member of my fraternity."

That's when Constantine and I walked in. The air smelt very strongly of booze, blood and a faint whiff of sulphur. John saw his friend's body and seemed to sag, but only a small bit. Weiss glared at Constantine. "Hey, what the hell is he doing here?" he demanded Angela.

"He's okay," she assured him. She was watching Constantine's body language and guessed he had a relationship with the deceased.

Constantine knelt down beside Hennessy and found the amulet he had stuffed into one of his pockets. I could tell what he was thinking. _"Maybe if I had let him wear this, this wouldn't have happened." _He looked at Hennessy's prone face and asked quietly, "Why didn't you call me, you son of a bitch?"

I sighed sadly. Hennessy had been a good guy. I knew in my heart he was in a much better place now though, a place my assignment might not get to see.

Constantine went to put the amulet into his own pocket when he spotted Hennessy's bloody hand. "You should check that out," I advised him. He got up, stepped over to some spilled ice and picked up a cube from the floor. Using the melting ice water, he gently washed away the dried blood from Hennessey's palm. I looked up and saw Weiss look away in disgust, but Angela was watching him curiously. Constantine discarded the ice cube and took out a handkerchief from his pocket. He pressed it to Hennessy's hand, and when he pulled it away the remaining blood had stained a noticeable symbol into the fabric. It looked like a cross with a circle around the point where the two bars met. I instantly recognised it. The same symbol had been supernaturally burned into Isabel's and Manuel's wrist.

"Isabel had the same symbol," I told Constantine. "It was when Hennessey touched it that he became possessed and started this… rampage." I gazed sadly around the store and subconsciously hugged my arms around myself, as if to ward off a chill.

Constantine asked Angela if he could use her phone. She gave it to him and he called Beeman to break the bad news, and to get him to work researching the symbol. Then he hung up and looked at Angela.

"You know where the next stop is," I said. I didn't want to hang around this location any more than necessary.

"I need to see where Isabel died," Constantine informed Angela.


	11. Cor 17:1

AN/ This chapter contains my favourite line from the movie. It's Beeman's last words to Constantine. I'd like to thank my reviewers and betas for their feedback. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Oh, and wish me a happy birthday! I turn 18 on April 24.

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Back at Ravenscar hospital, Angela was explaining Isabel's history to Constantine as she showed us where her twin had died. Her voice echoed in the hydrotherapy room. "Séances, Ouija boards, channelling. Our father thought she was just trying to get attention. She certainly did that." We approached the pool where Isabel's corpse had been found. "She'd tell everyone about the things she said she saw. She'd scare my mother…" Angela sighed. "…half to death. And then she stopped talking for almost a year." We paused at the edge of the pool. 

"So you had her committed," Constantine stated.

"Yeah." she admitted.

"How long?"

"Two weeks."

Now we were up in Isabel's room. Earlier John had asked if we could go there. I knew why. He best of anyone should know that someone like Isabel would want to leave something behind for their loved one, and that something could prove to be a vital clue. On the way up I suggested to Constantine that the bond Angela and Isabel must have had when they were young would have exceeded beyond that of usual twins. If one of them was psychic, then there was a good chance the other was as well.

"This time," Angela continued, sitting on the inside window ledge. "She'd get better then she'd get worse. Recently a lot worse." Constantine began to search the room, though he wasn't sure what for. I stood in the corner by the window and bed. My assignment opened the closet door and peered inside. "That symbol that was cut in the dead guy's hand…" Angela inquired. "…does it have something to do with this?"

Constantine turned and looked at her, wondering how she came to that conclusion.

"I'm a cop, John, remember?" she replied. She was investigating this as well, only for different reasons.

John felt along the top of the light box above the bed. "You don't walk off the roof of a building without leaving something behind."

"And I showed you everything she left behind in that box." Angela shrugged, assuming he was wasting his time. "But feel free."

"Maybe she left something else," Constantine suggested, expressing his line of thinking. He knelt, opening the drawers in the bedside table. "Not something a cop would find. Something just for you." He stood and faced her. Angela seemed uncomfortable considering that Isabel might have left something for her. "You were her twin, Angela. Twins tend to think alike" Constantine pointed out.

"I'm not like my sister," she insisted.

"But you were once," Constantine pointed out. He approached the detective and elaborated. "When you were kids. When you'd spend every second with each other. You'd start a sentence, she'd finish it. She'd get hurt, you'd cry."

Angela looked away. "That was a long time ago."

By now, John was right at her side. "That kind of bond doesn't just disappear."

"There is nothing here," Angela snapped. Constantine grabbed her elbow and forced her to her feet, dragging her to the middle of the room. "Hey!" she protested.

"She planned her death in this room," Constantine reminded her.

Angela didn't like where this was going. "Come on…"

He turned her around forcibly, holding her by the shoulders, making her look at things from his point of view. She struggled, but Constantine was still strong enough to hold her still.

"Careful, John," I said, fearing he might hurt her physically. She would probably get bruises from his rough handling. If he heard me, he gave no sign of it.

"She thought it up right here. Right where you're standing. She knew you'd come. She counted on you to see what she saw, feel what she felt, know what she knew." Angela stopped struggling, and became stilly defiant. "What did she do, Angela?" Constantine asked.

Angela was still resisting. "How should I know?"

"What did she do, Angela?" he repeated.

"I don't know."

Constantine turned her around and got in her face. He herded her back into a wall using his physical presence and voice. Unless I was mistaken, he used some psychic power to bully her as well. He also changed the question, made it more personal. It was like he was taking a sledgehammer to a brick wall; sooner or later she was going to crack. "What would _you_ do?"

"I don't know." she insisted.

"What would you do?"

"I don't know."

"What did she do, Angela?"

"I don't remember."

Now he was getting angry. "You _know_ what she did!"

"I don't."

"What did she do, Angela?" Constantine raised his voice.

"I don't know." I could tell she was weakening. She couldn't meet his eyes any more.

"_You know what she did! What are you afraid of?_" Angela thumped against the wall with a small cry and I winced. "_WHAT DID SHE DO, ANGELA? **WHAT DID SHE DO?**_"

"**_I DON'T KNOW!_**" she screamed, wrenching away from his grasp. She ran to the window in tears. The room went very quiet. I was extremely glad Constantine's abuse wasn't directed at me. I wouldn't have been able to take it. Angela sighed deeply, leaning on the sill. She buried her face in her arms and sobbed for a second. Then she looked up, sweeping her hair out of her face. She looked through the window…no, _at_ the window, at the glass itself.

"When we were girls," she said quietly. She took a deep breath, remembering. "We would leave each other messages." I looked to John. He was listening intently. "In light. In breath." Angela exhaled on the window. "On the windows." Condensation frosted the glass, making words appear, protected from the moisture by the natural skin oils smeared on the surface. I noticed it was the same phrase over and over: **Cor 17:1**.

Constantine walked up and underlined one of the phrases with his own finger. He and I knew what it referred to.

"We have to go," John said. There was a sharp tone of urgency in his voice. He breezed out of the room. I cast a glance to the still upset Angela and followed him out.

"John. John!" I called. He stopped and turned to me. "Shouldn't you at least make sure she's okay?" I demanded, pointing back to the room. "You gave her quite an emotional beating back there."

Constantine sighed. He was exasperated, but he realised I was right. When Angela emerged, now more composed, Constantine did ask if she was all right.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," she responded. She kept walking and Constantine and I fell into step with her. "Where are we going?"

"Back to the bowling alley. I know someone there who can look up that Bible reference," Constantine explained.

Angela seemed distracted as she drove. I didn't know for sure what was going through her mind, but I guessed she was churning over the events that just happened in Isabel's bedroom. Constantine lit a cigarette and asked if he could use her car phone to call the guy at the bowling alley.

"Hello?" Beeman's voice crackled through.

"Beeman, I need you to look up Corinthians 17:1," Constantine told him.

"W-why, John?" Beeman inquired. He sounded understandably uneasy. I clutched the back of John's headrest, an ill feeling developing deep in my gut.

"Just do it! And hurry!" Constantine commanded.

"Okay, okay, John, just hold on." There was a pause as Beeman dug out the book from his collection.

"John, there is no seventeenth act in Corinthians," Angela protested.

"Corinthians goes to twenty-one acts in the Bible in Hell," Constantine explained.

There was a pause as this sunk in. "They have Bibles in Hell," Angela said.

"Paints a different view of Revelations," Constantine continued. "Says the world will not end by God's hand but be reborn in the embrace of the damned. Though if you ask me, fire's fire." He finished his latest smoke and tossed the butt out the open window.

Beeman's voice came hauntingly back in over the speaker phone in Angela's car. "16:29, 16:30. Oh my, this is certainly not good." I frowned at the understatement. I was doing everything I could to keep myself from receiving visions of Beeman and the predicament he had found himself in. I had already witnessed Hennessy's death and I did not want to see Beeman's too. In place of the visions came waves of anxiety. "'The sins of the father would only be exceeded by the sins of the son,'" Beeman read.

"Who's son?" Angela demanded.

Constantine knew who, but it didn't make sense to him. "But he can't cross over, B," he said in the direction of the phone. "Impossible to cross over," he muttered, shaking his head.

"Who's son?" Angela asked again. "God's son?"

"No, the other one," John corrected. "Devil had a son too."

"Of course he did," I muttered, rolling my eyes. That's just the thing the devil would do. Can't let God have all the fun, can he?

"Here it is," Beeman said. I knew what he was looking at; the same cross and circle symbol that had developed a habit of popping up everywhere. "This is the sign of Mammon, the son of the devil." This realisation brought a fearful awe into his voice. "Well, hold on, it says here-"

There was a rattling noise in the background. The fear in Beeman's voice doubled. Constantine picked up on it. "Beeman?"

"Yeah, sorry, I'm…I'm sorry, no, I'm right here. Um…" he swallowed. "It says uh… Mammon has no patience for his father's rule and yearns to forge his own kingdom of fire and blood." There was another ominous rattle from Beeman's end of the line. "Yeah, Mammon would be the last demon we'd ever want crossing over to our plane." I didn't smile at his attempt at a joke. Neither did Constantine or Angela. "No, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, I'm reading. Seems to be a loophole."

"Always a catch," Constantine said.

"Um…" Beeman continued, his voice becoming more and more uncomfortable. "It says first Mammon would have to possess a very, very powerful psychic."

Angela looked at Constantine and made the connection. "Isabel."

"But that wouldn't be enough," Beeman went on. "To cross over, Mammon would need um, divine assistance. To cross over, Mammon would need the help of God." Even Beeman sounded like he couldn't believe it.

"The help of God?" Constantine repeated, thinking how that could possibly work.

"It says -" Beeman was cut off by a loud thud. I sighed quietly, knowing his time was almost up. We could hear the sounds of the bowling lanes working, though I knew only one other being was there.

"Beeman?" John asked, concerned.

Beeman also seemed to know his time was running out. "John, look," he said, a tremor in his voice. "I know you've never had much faith, you've never had much reason to, but that doesn't mean that _we_ don't have faith... in you."

The line went dead. All of a sudden, it seemed very dark inside the car.

"Beeman?" John asked, becoming more worried. "Beeman?" He looked to Angela. "Drive. Fast." She stepped on the gas. I bit my lip, knowing it was already too late.

As soon as we arrived, the three of us leapt out of the car. John burst through the double doors and into the bowling alley. Angela and I struggled to keep up. We paused in the middle of the vast room as a horrible smell reached our senses. It triggered memories and even more urgency. "Beeman!" John called, sprinting away. I raced after him.

Behind us, Angela put her hand to her nose. "Sulphur…"

"Beeman!" John hollered as we ran to the back. We burst through another door and darted up a small flight of stairs. Then we started down the narrow shaft that led to Beeman's working area. "Beeman!"

A dreadful buzzing noise filled the air, sending shivers up my spine. We slowed as we neared Beeman's body, slumped back in his chair. The source of the din was a huge swarm of flies and they were having a field day around him. Constantine removed his coat and ran up, half hoping that it couldn't be true. He used the coat to remove as many flies as he could, enough so we could see Beeman's face. His eyes were red and lifeless, and he had flies swarming out of his mouth. It took everything I had not to scream.


	12. Crash Course

AN/ Thanks again to the reviewers. Hope you all like this chapter.

* * *

John and I were standing on a narrow balcony gazing out over the city. There was no proper door leading out, so we had to climb through an open window instead. We watched as an ambulance and a few police cars zoomed as fast as they could down the street, their sirens wailing mournfully. We knew that ambulance carried Beeman's body. I had been trying of think of something to say, though nothing was easily coming to mind. Constantine filled the silence himself after a while. 

"You knew that was going to happen," he accused me, puffing ona cigarette.

I couldn't look at him. "Yes."

"And you couldn't warn me? Couldn't stop it happening to him? Or to Hennessy?" Constantine sounded rightfully pissed.

"No, John, I couldn't. I'm not allowed to."

"Bullshit," he snapped.

My eyes met his. I could feel power spawned from my frustration growing behind them and radiating towards him. "It's the truth! Believe me, if I could, I would have stopped it from happening! But I couldn't. I couldn't any more than you could."

Constantine finished his smoke and flicked the butt to the street below.

I sighed and softened my tone. "I think his soul would have gone up," I said quietly as John turned to go back in. His dark eyes met mine briefly.

"Or he could still be waiting around here, wondering why I didn't arrive fast enough to help him," he muttered.

I frowned sadly and started to follow him back into the apartment. He stopped just on the other side of the frame, looking at someone. I could make out Angela's voice. "It wasn't just Isabel," she said. I managed to squeeze past behind Constantine and saw her standing before him. "I used to see things too," she admitted. Neither of us were surprised. Constantine sighed, glancing back out the window. Angela studied him, her eyes emotional. "But…you already knew that, didn't you?"

"Go home, Angela," John told her. He turned to close the wooden slats over the window.

"I need to understand," Angela insisted.

John looked at her. "You don't wanna know what's out there, trust me." He closed the slats over the window, slamming them to make sure they were secure.

Once again, Angela proved her stubbornness. "I'm stronger than Isabel."

"Your sister embraced her gift. You denied yours," John said. Angela shook her head, her eyes beginning to well up with tears. "Denial is a better idea. It's why you're still alive. Stick with me, that'll change. I don't need another ghost following me around." He turned and began to walk away. I remained rooted to the spot.

Angela stepped forward, persistent. "John, they killed my sister." She took some deep breaths, considering the seriousness of what she was about to say, and decided she meant it. "I'd trade places with her if I could."

That made John stop. I found myself having to move a few steps towards him so I could clearly see both of them. He turned slowly.

"I used to pretend that I didn't," Angela continued. "That I didn't see things." John looked away. He would have tried that too when he was young. What Angela was saying was really hitting home with him. She took a few steps closer.

"By the time we were ten, they started forcing her to take…" she wringed her hands and adverted her eyes at the distressing memory. John looked at her sympathetically. "…antipsychotics and have treatments and they would come for her and she'd look at me and she'd say to me 'Tell them.'" Her voice changed slightly, mimicking how Isabel would have sounded. "'Why don't…why don't you tell them, Angie that _you_ can see them too?' But I lied. I said: 'I don't see anything.' Until one day," she swallowed. "I finally stopped seeing."

There was a heavy pause. Constantine was still listening to her, understanding what she had been through. "I abandoned her, John," Angela said softly. "I left her all alone." She took a few more steps forward, closing the gap between him and her. Her eyes were very moist now. "I need to see what she saw," she requested. She took a breath. "Please," she added quietly.

Constantine considered this. He knew that she was serious, she wasn't kidding around. She wanted to go to Hell to see her sister, but would she be able to handle it? We both knew the experience was a horrible one, the stuff of nightmares. Why anyone would _want_ to go there…but Angela had a valid reason, I suppose.

"You do this, there's no turning back." John said softly. He took a single step towards her. "You see them, they see you." I knew he was talking about the demons. "Understand?"

"Yeah," Angela said, a single tear falling down her cheek.

John looked into her eyes for a while, then looked down. When he looked back at her, his mind was decided. "Sure." He turned and walked into the bathroom. Angela didn't follow him right away. I saw her sigh, more tears running down her face.

I walked into the bathroom and approached John. He was beginning to fill the old bathtub. "You do know what you're going to have to do to her in order to make her go," I said quietly. John nodded. I sighed. "I'd help you, but I'd just pass right through her. I might be able to help find the right psychic vibrations though."

"That's okay," John whispered to me.

Angela had composed herself now. She walked in and sat on a chair by the door, waiting. When John thought the tub was full enough, he turned off the water. He was sitting on the rim of the tub, and looked atAngela as she stood. She walked up to him and he stood as well, adjusting his belt. Angela guessed correctly that she would have to get in the water. She took her bag, wondered what to do with it for a moment, then tossed it back onto her chair. John held out his hands for her badge and gun. She hesitated a second before handing them over. Then she removed her sweater as John transferred the gun into his other hand to take it.

"So, do I have to take the rest of my clothes off, or can I leave them on?" Angela asked nervously, handing him the sweater.

John didn't say anything. I started to smile. In his own way, he was trying to put her at ease. It was a bloody odd way of doing it, but it worked to some small degree. John looked at Angela, not meeting her eyes. He appeared to be weighing up his options, wondering if he would get away with it.

"John?"

"I'm thinking," he responded.

Angela also began to smile as mine widened into a grin. "John?"

"On is fine," he assured her, a glimmer of amusement in his face. He walked over to a far corner and deposited her belongings where they would be safe. Angela carefully stepped into the bathtub. She pushed her hair back behind her ear. I could tell she was scared. She began talking, asking questions as a method to keep herself from freaking out entirely.

"So, why water?"

"It's a universal conduit," John explained, rolling up his sleeves. "Lubricates the transition from one plane to another." John also knew what Angela was trying to do to keep herself clam. "Now ask me if there's water in Hell."

"Is there water in Hell?" she asked with a shadow of a smile.

Constantine didn't answer her, instead he told her to "Sit." He took a few steps to the right, knowing that her head would be down at that end of the tub. "Normally only a portion of the body has to be submerged," he continued, using the voice of experience. He knelt by the tub as she sat in the lukewarm water. I shivered slightly. She wouldn't have been comfortable, not that she would care about how warm or cold the water was in a moment. "But, you wanted the crash course."

"Yeah, I wanted the crash course," Angela breathed, clutching the rim. Her knuckles turned white. "So, um… so, what's going to happen?" She looked at John inquiringly.

He and I knew it couldn't be explained, so he didn't bother. How do you say, 'I'm doing to drown you so you go to Hell' and make it sound okay?

"Lie down," John instructed quietly.

She looked around, slightly confused. Wasn't she submerged enough? "What do you mean lie down?"

"You have to be fully submerged," John clarified.

Here was the decisive moment when Angela could have said 'no,' gotten up, grabbed her stuff, and got out of there. But she didn't. She decided to trust him. "For how long?" she asked.

"As long as it takes," he replied. She nodded and he placed a hand on the back of her neck, ready to support her. I suspected he would be able to feel her racing pulse. She got ready to lower her head into the water, breathing hard to calm her nerves. "Take a deep one," John advised.

She did, closing her eyes and allowing herself to sink to the bottom of the tub. John placed a hand on her chest over her collar bone as he took his other hand away. We watched as bubbles rose out of her nose. I subconsciously licked the roof of my mouth, remembering the uncomfortable feeling of water going up my nose. After a moment, Angela opened her eyes and looked up at Constantine through the water. I knew that he was using his psychic energy, transferring it to her through the contact of his hand on her flesh to help her find the right vibrations. I placed my hand on John's shoulder and sent my own powers through them to help the process along.

For a minute or so, nothing happened. Angela blinked under water and curled her hands into loose fists. John was solid as a rock, waiting for the inevitable. I noticed a cute little rubber ducky sitting cheerily on the rim of the bath tub. My mouth quirked into a tiny smile. It was the last thing I'd expect to find in John Constantine's bathroom.

Angela's lungs began to tell her that she was running out of air. She raised her head slightly, but couldn't get up any further than that because Constantine was still holding her under. She looked at him questionably and tried to get up again. John didn't move. I braced myself as Angela began to panic. She grabbed his arm and tried to push him off, but he just pressed harder. Angela flailed, splashing water as she became more desperate for air. She tried grabbing at his shirt, shoulders and tie to pull herself up. He was forced to use his other hand to help hold her down. I pressed on Constantine's back to help keep him steady and also to assist him in helping her open the gateway.

I could feel time slowing. I looked to the faucet on the tub. There was a drop of water about to fall from it. I held my breath. The drop fell, paused in midair…

…then splashed into the bath water.

Angela erupted out of the tub. The thick porcelain side broke apart from the force of her re-entry onto our plane. Water flooded the bathroom floor. The force of it knocked John and I onto our backs. I cursed loudly as I landed on a large piece of shattered porcelain. I scrambled up as quickly as I could, slipping on the wet floor. I chose to lean against the chair by the door. Angela was gasping for air, her body steaming. John was also catching his breath from his exertions in keeping Angela underwater and sending her to and from Hell.

"Oh God," Angela gasped. She was trembling uncontrollably. "Oh God, all those people." Constantine sat up and put his hand over his eyes, pressing against the bridge of his nose. "Oh, Isabel. I've always known," Angela continued. She wasn't talking to Constantine. I could feel her long-dormant psychic power re-assert itself. "I've always known where they are. I've always known where to find them. Where to aim and where to duck…" She was talking about her uncanny ability as a cop to find and kill the bad guys. Her voice was marked by gasps as she slowly lifted herself up into a sitting position. "…and I've always known where they were. I've always know that it wasn't luck." Constantine looked at her, hearing this for the first time. Angela's voice was growing softer and softer. "Always know it wasn't luck. I've always known…I've always known that I could see. I've always known that I could see."

Angela's eyes had grown distant. He lifted her left hand, and made finger motions almost like she was rolling a coin. Constantine leaned towards her. I stood up in preparation. "Angela," John said.

"Someone was here." Angela's voice sounded detached from her body. She was still for another moment, then her hand slapped onto the floor and she was on her feet. She slipped and fell once on the wet tiles, then sprinted through the apartment with John and I right behind her. We ran down to the bowling ally, Angela using her newly-asserted powers to guide her back to where we had found Beeman.

Along the way, I managed to get near enough to John to say "She knows who attacked Hennessey and Beeman." John's jaw tightened at this news.

Angela stopped just before she reached Beeman's chair, the vacant look still in her eyes. She started to walk slowly forwards. John and I were hanging on her every word, her voice echoing in the space.

"It was his. Rolling. Not a ball. Something smaller. Shiny." She got down on her knees, gasping. She reached her fingers down through the grill that served as the floor. There was a small clink of metal on metal as she brought up an ancient gold coin. She began rolling it back and fourth over her fingers, turning towards Constantine. He and I both recognised the behaviour and knew exactly who it was connected with.

"Balthazar," Constantine spat. I felt an angry growl grow in my throat. John gently stopped the rolling coin balanced on Angela's fingers. She looked up at him, her eyes no longer vacant.


	13. Sangre de Dio

AN/ Here's a nice, long chapter for all of you. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks again to the reviewers. Your encouragement does not go unappreciated!

* * *

A few hours later John and Angela were in dry clothes and the three of us were back down in Beeman's space. I decided to use my powers beforehand to force the two of them to take a nap before they collapsed from exhaustion. They also had something quick to eat. This was very good because they were both going to need their strength. John let Angela borrow one of his shirts and some pants that were a close enough fit. I suggested to John during our break that he would need some sort of weapon, like a gun. He knew exactly what I meant. He also knew exactly how to make it. I watched him over his right shoulder as he put the gun together on Beeman's desk, fascinated. 

While John was busy, Angela was having a curious poke around. She found the novelty can Constantine had given Beeman and turned it over. _Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa_. The noise made John and I stop and look at her. I smiled unhappily. The can brought back sad memories.

"Sorry," Angela said. She put the can down and crossed the room. Her movements forced me change my location by John's side, which I did so grudgingly. I couldn't be mad at Angela because she couldn't see me, but it still got annoying when only one person in the room respected your personal space.

The Holy Shotgun John was building was coming together quickly. Angela was interested in it, and knew who Constantine was going to use it on first. "Can you just kill him?" she asked. "What about the balance?"

"Half-breed tipped the scales when he started killing my friends," John replied. "I'm just adding some counterweight." He turned and aimed the completed weapon, pieced together from a piece of a clock, a dagger, a crucifix, the handle from a cane, and many other knick-knacks including the tube of dragon's breath. Constantine fired the gun at a packet of cigarettes, blowing it to bits. Ironically, the largest piece of debris had the Surgeons General Warning label on it reading: **Smoking causes lung cancer, heart disease, emphysema, and may complicate pregnancy.**

Angela let her psychic power tell her where Balthazar was hiding. This was good because I couldn't remember the name of the building he was in. It seemed at first just like any other office building, except this one appeared to be sculpted out of black glass and had a very foreboding air about it.

We drove quickly through the empty underground parking garage, Constantine riding in the front and me sitting in the middle of the back seat. I felt hairs rise on the back of my neck as I remembered too many stories about people being attacked in places like this. Angela swerved around several concrete support pillars and came to a stop at the main doors to the tower elevator on the **C** parking level.

John and Angela hesitated only a second before turning to each other. "John, I really want…" Angela began.

She was cut off as John leaned in close and got cheek to cheek with her. I couldn't help but smile. She would have thought he was going to kiss her. I could feel the sexual tension between them and thought that maybe they _could _have a future together after all of this. I knew what John was really doing though, and I had to admit it _was_ a kind gesture. He clipped the pendant that had protected Hennessey from demons around her neck and pulled away slightly.

"Think of it as a bullet proof vest," he whispered to her.

She looked down at the amulet nestled in her bosom and picked it up, examining and recognising it. She looked back up at him, shaking her head.

"Uh uh. I'm coming with you," she insisted.

"You're staying in the car," John said.

I frowned. Was this a display of male chauvinism, or a simple case of a more experienced person taking over for both their sakes? I could tell Angela was considering the same thing. I settled on him taking over because of his superior experience in the field. I knew it wouldn't make Angela stay put for long, though.

John opened the door and stepped out. I silently slid out through the door closest to the entrance to the building, wincing as my old and new wounds protested. I took a few deep breaths and followed Constantine into the building.

We both used our psychic powers to locate Balthazar. He was several floors up, enough so we had to take the elevator.

"Are you going to interrogate him?" I asked, looking at the ascending numbers inside the elevator.

"You tell me," Constantine replied. I smirked and nodded.

"You're gonna interrogate him. And you're going to do it in your own special way, too. You still got that knuckleduster Beeman gave you?"

Constantine felt in his coat pocket. "Yeah."

I looked him over, my eyes resting on the gun. "And I know you have the Holy Shotgun. I recommend using the dragon's breath to begin with. You have that last holy water ampoule?"

Constantine felt in another pocket. "Yes."

I looked in his eyes. "And the Bible?"

He raised an eyebrow, but didn't bother checking in his pocket for it. "Yes."

"Plus strength and endurance?"

He sighed. "You might have to help me with that," he said reluctantly.

I smiled. "No problem." I clapped my hands together, wishing I felt half as confidant as I sounded. "So, you're all set then. Let's get him."

That that moment, we reached our floor and he doors pinged open. We stepped out and traced Balthazar's signal to a place behind a wall. I smirked to myself at the image of the half-breed preening in front of a floor to ceiling mirror in a spiffy and expensive office. I was looking forward to Balthazar's downfall. Constantine aimed the gun and blasted the wall with dragon's breath, burning his way through. It was only a matter of seconds before the mirror exploded outwards, striking Balthazar full-on. In my mind's eye I saw him being thrown backwards, landing on the table, his suit only slightly scorched.

"_Fire_?" he gloated, wondering who would _dare_ attack him with his element. "I was _born_ of this!"

Constantine and I stepped through the raiments of the mirror. "How's Mammon crossing over, you half-breed piece of shit?" Constantine demanded, tossing the holy water at Balthazar.

The ampoule smashed on the left side of his face. The human skin dissolved away on that side, leaving him with a grotesque, two-face appearance. "That's better," Balthazar said, even as pieces of his human flesh were falling away. "Au natural."

Without warning, he lunged at Constantine, lifting him off his feet by his throat and slamming him back into the mirror behind the hole. I cried out and ran to Constantine's side, stepping over his dropped gun. Balthazar was choking the life out of him as Constantine struggled weakly.

"Come on, Constantine," I said urgently. "You can do it. You're stronger than this. Think of Hennessy. Think of Beeman. This bastard _killed_ them. You're not going to let him get away with that, are you?" I touched my assignment's shoulder, giving him a shot of strength.

"Don't fight it, Johnny Boy," Balthazar leered. "Enjoy it." The demon chuckled. He was having fun.

I saw Constantine reach inside his jacket for something and I cheered. "Yes! Get it!"

I stepped out of his way as the gold knuckleduster appeared and slipped snugly on Constantine's right hand. He smashed it hard against the demon side of Balthazar's face. Flakes of demon-skin exploded away from the impact and Balthazar was forced to let Constantine go. Constantine punched Balthazar _again_, and _again_, and _again_, striking him in the head and stomach. He was hitting more than just flesh. I sensed he was striking at Balthazar's spiritual, demonic core. The force of the blows combined with the holy magic in the gold and Constantine's own anger made for an extremely brutal beating.

Balthazar was slugged back onto the table, where he landed heavily. Panting, Constantine crawled up on top of him, grabbed the half-breed by the shirt collar and hit him once more across the face. I climbed up onto the table as well, kneeling and watching my assignment in action with a smug smile. Balthazar was panting, his flesh steaming from the contact with the holy relic. Constantine's physical strength was waning again, so he switched battle tactics. Balthazar was now weak enough and close enough to 'death' for a different kind of attack to take place. Despite this, Balthazar still felt that he had reason to gloat.

"We'll see you very soon," the half-breed rasped.

Constantine lifted himself up. He straddled Balthazar on one knee and reached into his breast pocket for his secret weapon. He removed a small black box. "Not really, no."

"You can't cheat it this time," Balthazar reminded him. "You're going back to Hell."

"True," Constantine admitted, now holding the small, well worn Bible he had removed from the box. "But you're not." He opened it and began to flip to a pre-marked page.

"What are you doing?" Balthazar demanded. It was difficult to detect, but for a moment I thought I heard fear in what was left of his voice.

"I'm reading you your last rites," Constantine explained.

The demon didn't think it was possible. "Spare me your remedial incantations."

Constantine pulled out a small tin of holy oil. "You do know what it is to truly be forgiven?" Balthazar shook his head, though not for a 'no' answer. He was trying to find some way of escape. "To be welcomed into the Kingdom of God?" Constantine rubbed this thumb in the oil and made a cross on Balthazar's forehead, wiping the extra off on the half-breed's ruined suit. Balthazar's skin hissed at the holy oil's touch. "A demon in Heaven," Constantine mused. " _Love_ to be a fly on that wall."

"Me too," I grinned.

"You're not a priest," Balthazar gasped. Now he was really afraid, and was grasping at any technicality he could think of. "You have no _power_."

Constantine grabbed Balthazar's shirt, lifting him off the table. "Just tell me how Mammon is crossing over and you can go back to your shit hole," he snarled.

Balthazar remained stubbornly silent about this issue. He grunted in pain when Constantine dropped him.

Constantine smiled thinly. "You have him right where you want him," I said gleefully. I was excited about Balthazar getting what he deserved. Constantine knew he was at an advantage now. He had confused and weakened Balthazar into believing there _was_ a chance he could actually go to Heaven, the last place any demon would want to go. It was their biggest fear, or at least this was the case with Balthazar.

"Okay, Bally," Constantine mocked. "Enjoy it."

He sat up and crossed himself, chanting in Latin. He stretched out right hand, still sporting the knuckleduster, over Balthazar's face. Constantine read from his Bible in a loud, clear voice, though I strongly suspected he already knew the passage by heart. Balthazar looked at him past the hovering hand, his eyes wide and terrified. "'May God have mercy on you and grant you the pardon of all your sins. Whose soever sins you remit on earth, they are remitted unto them in Heaven.'"

Balthazar moaned. I had no idea what it must have felt like to him, but it was clear it was torture.

"How, how's he doing it?" Constantine asked.

"No." Balthazar writhed weakly. "No, I can't." He feared Mammon's punishment just as much as he feared going to Heaven.

Constantine stood up, towering over Balthazar and me. I stood as well, grinning. Constantine raised his right hand skyward and shouted the last phrases powerfully. "Grant your child entry into thy kingdom…" He looked down at Balthazar and made a huge sweeping cross over the demon's body. "In the name of the Father and of the Son and the Holy Spirit." He looked heavenward again "_Amen_!"

"_Sangre de dio!_" Balthazar shouted, desperate to stop Constantine before it was too late. I didn't know a lot of Latin, but I was able to figure out the translation even without the demon rasping "The blood of God."

The puzzle pieces clicked together in Constantine's mind. He knew exactly what he stricken demon was talking about. "He found it."

"'Whatever killed the Son of God will give birth to the son of the devil,'" Balthazar explained. I suspected he was quoting from Hell's Bible.

Constantine snapped his Bible closed. He had heard all the needed out of the half-breed. He went to go, then paused. "By the way," he said, dropping the bomb. "You have to _ask_ for resolution to be forgiven…" Constantine picked up the Bible's box from the table and stuffed it and the knuckleduster back in his pockets. "...asshole."

Constantine stepped over Balthazar's body and hopped off the table. I did an about-face and jumped off as Constantine bent to scoop up his gun. Bizarrely, Balthazar was laughing. I didn't think it so bizarre when I realised that Angela was about to turn the corner.

"My work here is done," Balthazar gasped.

Constantine and I stopped. "What are you laughing at?" my assignment asked.

"She was my only mission," Balthazar said, some of his old self returning to his voice. Constantine and I turned and saw Angela, gun drawn. She met eyes with Constantine with a look that said "how could you expect me to stay in the car?" before staring at what was left of Balthazar. "And you brought her right to us," the demon added.

I bit my lip, and flinched when Constantine raised the shotgun and fired at Balthazar's face, blowing it to bits. I felt a familiar prickling sensation in the back of my mind, and I knew _he_ was close by…the Snob. "We should get out of here," I said.

We moved quickly down the hall back towards the elevators. "So does this walking fast mean you've found something?" Angela asked, keeping pace with Constantine. I was slightly behind them. Angela had put her gun away, but still kept her hand on her holster.

"Jesus didn't die from being nailed to a cross. He was killed by a soldier's spear," Constantine explained.

Angela knew what he was talking about. "The Spear of Destiny." He looked at her, slightly surprised. "I'm a Catholic, John," she reminded him. "I know the Crucifixion story." The three of us rounded a corner. That prickling feeling I had grew stronger. It took everything I had to hold my tongue. I wanted to warn them, but if I did, the story would change, and that could be disastrous.

Constantine fished a piece of paper out of one of his pockets. We reached the elevators and both he and Angela pushed a button to go down. "Beeman said Mammon would need divine assistance to cross over," John said, unfolding the paper. He looked at it. It was the drawing of the Spear of Destiny he had taken from the little girl's home after her exorcism. "How's the blood of God's only son?" he wondered.

Angela figured it out before I could tell him. "The stains on the spear."

Constantine refolded the paper and looked at her, stuffing it back in his pocket. "Yeah."

"So he gets the spear," Angela said, going into detective mode. "He still needs to locate a powerful psychic."

"Not really," Constantine reminded her. He realised that Balthazar was right; he had brought the powerful psychic right to them.

Then it truly dawned on Angela, the role she would play. "Twins," she realised. We all knew what Isabel did to avoid being used by Mammon. If Angela didn't want the same fate, she would need serious protection.

Constantine's eyes flickered down Angela's neckline and noticed something was missing. "Where's the amulet?"

"I don't know. I must have left it in the…" Her voice trailed off as an odd expression came over her face, like she was experiencing something unpleasant but she couldn't put a name to it.

Constantine noticed the expression and grew concerned. "What's wrong?" he asked, stepping towards her.

She sounded baffled. "I don't know. I just feel-" she looked down, clutching her stomach, like someone invisible had grabbed her around the middle. Then Angela blasted backwards through the elevator shaft, pulled by an incredible force. Constantine and I leapt across the shaft after her. She was dragged through the building at an astonishing speed. Fortunately, the force that was pulling her along destroyed offices, bathrooms, and anything else that was in her path so that Angela remained unharmed.

As fast as Constantine and I could run, we just couldn't reach her. It was ultimately a futile chase. I had known this all along and Constantine realised it too as we skidded to a halt in front of a huge open window. We stared hopelessly out after Angela as she vanished into the night sky. For a minute I thought I could hear the sound of huge wings beating the air. Then Constantine turned and stormed back through the building. I had no choice but to follow.


	14. The Last Request

AN/ I used a portion of the Constantine movie novelisation by John Shirley in this chapter. This book had been a tremendous help for me writing this fic. So yeah, shout out to Mr Shirley. Thanks again to those who took the time to review.

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Constantine managed to find a phone and called Chas. He and I waited none-too patiently outside the building for him to arrive. When the cab finally pulled up, I noticed Anput sitting in the front seat. She looked anxious but was trying to hide it so she wouldn't put Chas into a panic. Constantine and I hopped in and Constantine told Chas to drive to Midnite's. My assignment knew that if he didn't use the chair now, it would be too late and everything would only get worse. He knew that because I told him. On the way to the bar, Anput and Constantine filled Chas in on everything that had happened. I was pleased when we arrived at Midnite's bar in record time.

Constantine knew that Chas wouldn't stay in the car this time even if he told him, so he kept quiet. Sure enough, Chas and Anput once again followed Constantine and I down into the familiar red room. The guard held up a card, but I knew that no matter what Constantine answered, the guard was instructed not to let him in. I also knew that Constantine was tired, both physically and psychically. He didn't want to waste any energy guessing what the stupid symbol on the back of a card was.

"Bird on a ladder," he said.

"Sorry," the bouncer stated.

In response, Constantine punched him. My eyebrows rose in mild surprise. Constantine downed the very solid-looking bouncer in one shot. The man crashed backwards, breaking a chair. Constantine shook his hand to relieve the pain, unhooked the rope and continued down into the bar.

"Wait here," he told Chas without looking back at him.

I glanced over my shoulder. Chas and Anput were looking the guard's body over. "Yeah," Chas said. I allowed my mind to stay with them for a few seconds and I heard Chas chuckle and lightly kick the guard. "Who's a rat in a dress now, huh, bitch?" Try as I might, I couldn't hide my smile.

Constantine stormed through the empty bar straight to Midnite's door. I could feel the angry vibes coming off him as I struggled slightly to keep up. Constantine swung his gun up and aimed at the door. He fired two blasts at it and kicked it open. We stepped into the room as Midnite rose to his feet. Constantine had the gun aimed at the witchdoctor's head. The air became thick with Midnite's furry.

"Have you lost what little mind you have?" Midnite demanded. He flexed his hands, drawing power to them. Constantine saw him do this.

"Don't," he warned. I stared at the power in Midnite's hands, spiralling and tightening, ready to attack. "I need to use the chair," Constantine insisted. He must have thought he sounded crazy. It was like barging into your neighbour's house and demanding to use their internet.

"I offer no aid to one side or the other," Midnite reminded him tightly. "The balance."

"Screw the balance."

Constantine regretted saying that, because just then Midnite fired his power at him. Constantine was hurled back up against the wall by an incredible, invisible force. The shotgun clattered to the carpeted floor. I gasped at the ferocity of Midnite's attack. Constantine bounced off the wall. Midnite rushed up and caught him before he fell and pinned him with power still radiating from his hands, burning through fabric and flesh. Constantine yelled in pain. I remembered reading somewhere that if he chose to, Midnite could stop Constantine's heart "between one beat and the next." I put my hand to my mouth, frozen for a moment. Then something in me clicked and I ran up to Constantine, squeezing his shoulder.

"_YOU DARE? IN MY HOUSE!_?" Midnite roared. I realised that the witchdoctor's anger could be perfectly justified. He was just like a wolf or a lion, protecting his territory.

Constantine managed to meet Midnite's eyes. Iron will met iron will and they found each other equal. "Is this neutral? Bull_shit_." Constantine managed to say through the unbelievable pain. "You're the only one still playing by the rules, Midnite. And while you've been imitating Switzerland, people are dying." Midnite thumped him again with his power. Constantine grunted painfully, but managed to continue. "Hennessy. Beeman. They were your friends once too, remember?" Midnite zapped him again, smoke rising from his hands. Constantine squeezed his eyes shut in agony. "_I need your help_!" he shouted in desperation. He managed to lean in towards Midnite. I noticed John was having trouble breathing. Midnite's power must not have been doing anything good to his cancer. "Consider it a last request."

Sweat beaded down the back of Papa Midnite's neck. He took a second or two to seriously consider Constantine's request. "You play a dangerous game," he stated, but ultimately decided to help him. Midnite let Constantine go, and my assignment slumped to the floor in a painful heap. I squatted beside him, patted his shoulder and smiled as reassuringly as I could. He groaned when he saw the marks in his shirt; ten little brown, flinger tip shaped burns.

"Two-hundred-dollar shirt, by the way," he said annoyingly after Midnite as the witchdoctor crossed the room. I smiled again and helped Constantine to his feet.

"Are you okay?" I asked him.

He nodded, looking like he was suppressing a cough. I frowned slightly, realising the stupidity of my question. He didn't _look_ okay. He looked like he should be in a hospital receiving treatment. I swallowed back a sigh and we followed Midnite into a room which he usually kept locked. It was down in a dark, red-tiled passageway. Midnite asked Constantine what he was planning to do with the chair. Constantine explained that he wanted to track whoever had the Spear of Destiny and that Mammon needed it along with Angela to pass through onto our plane.

"That little shit has been trying to climb out of his father's shadow for eons." Midnite remarked. I wasn't surprised in the slightest that he knew about him.

I had to stop and gasp at the room we had entered. It was huge, with cathedral-like ceilings and chocker-block full of artefacts that would definitely fall under the category of 'strange and mysterious.'

"I'd hate to think what he would ever do to this world if he broke through," Midnete admitted. As he walked through the room, Midnite snatched a bottle of alcohol. I smiled grimly. They would need it in a short while.

At the back of the room sat a large object covered by a heavy cloth. Midnite pulled the cloth off, revealing an old wooden electric chair, complete with leather straps. "Forgot how big it was," Constantine muttered. I looked at him. He was scared, no, _terrified_. He was hiding it very well, but I wasn't completely fooled. I strongly suspected Midnite wouldn't be fooled either.

"Two hundred souls passed through this wood and steel at Sing Sing," the witchdoctor reminded us.

"Yeah," Constantine said. He and I knew that one of these souls had dabbled in magic and tried to open a portal as he sat in the chair. That magic coupled with the electricity that killed the prisoner turned the chair into something more than a tool for execution. He turned it into a tool for those who could to surf the psychic ether back in time. I could hear the pain and worry in my assignment's voice. The pain was from the cancer and from what Midnite had done. The worry was for Angela. Constantine leaned the Holy Shotgun against what looked like a head bord. He grasped the chair and looked at Midnite. "Which way's east?"

Midnite pointed to my right and went to fill a pot with water from a near by line of sinks. I stepped out of the way so Constantine could slide the chair into place. Why east was important to the whole procedure, I had no clue. Constantine sat down in the chair with a sigh, his psychic senses suddenly bombarded with the residue of utter terror and despair that had leached into the chair.

"How many years since you've surfed?" Midnite asked across the room.

Constantine crossed his left leg over his right knee and began to undo his shoelaces. He sounded like he was trying to reassure himself. "Like riding a bike."

"No, not really," Midnite corrected, now standing before him with a pot of water and the bottle of alcohol. "Tell me this isn't about the girl."

Constantine was working on the other shoe. "Definitely mostly not about the girl," he replied.

I grinned despite myself. "In other words, it's about the girl," I said. John didn't look at me, but I felt something come my way from him. A kind of psychic prod. "Though saving the world is an extra bonus," I added. "And you shouldn't prod me with your mind like that. You need to save your strength."

By now Constantine had both his shoes and socks off. Midnite smirked, guessing the truth about the girl, and poured the water onto the floor. Constantine flinched and reflexively raised his feet. "Cold."

Midnite handed him to bottle. "Little flavour?"

Constantine took to bottle, offered a little tost to Midnite and took a long swig.

"I'm not going to surf with you," I told John. "But I'll help you get out of it. Just call to me with your mind and I'll hear."

Constantine nodded to me as Midnite took a lamp pole and smashed the lit bulb against the stone wall. There were sparks, and when they settled I could see the filament remained intact, live and extremely dangerous. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise and my eyes widened. Constantine handed the bottle back to Midnite, who drank from it himself, then spit the alcohol back onto the floor. Constantine shook himself and took deep breaths, reading his body the best he could. He clutched the arms of the chair tightly.

"Sure about this?" Midnite asked.

"No," John answered truthfully.

Then with a yell, Midnite pressed the live filament to the puddle of water at Constantine's feet. My assignment was instantly electrocuted. His body jerked uncontrollably. My muscles were tense, ready to help him when he called. Midnite was chanting in Latin, helping him along. Then he took the filament away. Constantine still convulsed, though now he was surfing the ether. His mind was literally some place else. I knew what he saw; Manuel discovering the Spear of Destiny, surviving a devastating car crash, crossing the border into the states, stealing a car, and driving down the highway to Ravenscar hospital. All the while, the scavenger was hearing a demonic voice whispering in his ear. The hospital was full of demonic half-breeds eagerly awaiting Mammon's arrival and ready to guard Angela. Manuel walked through into the hydrotherapy room, and suddenly saw Constantine. He turned on him, choking the life out of him even though Constantine's body was far away. Then I heard the mental cry: "Bastet!" At the same time, Constantine also shouted "Midnite!"

I closed my eyes and reached out, grasping Constantine's arm and pulling with all my might. Midnite also stepped up, sweeping the scavenger's hands off of Constantine and grabbing him by the shoulders. The witchdoctor and I both pulled Constantine back into the room. Constantine was panting, but okay. I smiled and let go, feeling very relieved.

"Any luck?" Midnite asked.

Constantine smiled, nodded and thumped Midnite's arm. "That's a word for it."

I became aware of two more people in the room. I turned and smiled at Anput and Chas as they hesitantly approached. I knew they wouldn't be able to stay put for long. My sister smiled and shrugged at me. I winked at her, understanding completely.

"Holy shit," Chas said in awe. He pointed with a finger still in his coat pocket. "You're Papa Midnite, aren't you?"

The witchdoctor glared at him. "How'd you get in?" he demanded, getting slightly territorial again.

"Relax, he's with me," Constantine said. He shot Chas a look that read 'I told you to_ stay_.' "This is Chas. He's my apprentice," he explained to Midnite.

"When I'm not his chauffer," Chas grumbled.

"Your apprentice?" Midnite quirked an eyebrow and looked Chas up and down critically. "That the best you could do?"

Chas, Anput and I frowned. John shrugged.

"Sometimes you just have to work with what you have," he said. I hoped he wasn't also talking about me.


	15. Preparation

AN/ This chapter includes a mini scene from the movie novel. I thought it was worth adding to this fic. Thanks again to the lovely reviewers.

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Midnite allowed John and Chas the use of his kitchen under his supervision. John and Chas melted down gold crosses and other artifacts in a metal pan. The liquid was poured into moulds and holy bullets were made. Midnite wasn't entirely happy over the loss of the valuable artifacts, but everyone had to sacrifice something in this war. "And how exactly do you intend on getting close enough to use these?" he asked.

John didn't answer him. He hadn't really thought that far yet, and I hadn't told him how it was going to be done. I could tell he was still very worried about Angela and whether or not he still had the strength to save her and the world from Mammon. Luckily, John didn't have to answer Midnite's question. As inexperienced as Chas was, he sure didn't waste his time. He was extremely book-smart about the supernatural. I also slightly suspected Anput had helped him, though I wouldn't have been surprised if she had not done so in this case.

"Well, they did not leave her unguarded," Chas said. He was pressing gunpowder into the ornate bullet casings. We all looked at him. Anput was smiling proudly. I also smiled at the young man. "Half-breeds are most vulnerable when their…" he positioned a bullet under the press and reached for the handle. "…when their outer skin is breached by holy water." He pressed down and moved the finished bullet aside, continuing with his explanation. "Certain objects, most notably either of the two crosses of Isteria…" Another bullet was placed under the press. "…have been used by even the unordained to bless and sanctify all commonly occurring waters, even rain." The bullet was finished and put aside.

For the first time, Chas looked up at Constantine and Midnite. Constantine was mildly surprised. Midnite was grinning, his teeth very white against his black skin. "Maybe if…" Chas hesitated, his hands on the press handle. He decided it was too late for him to back down now and smiled slightly at John. "No use sitting on the bench if you're not ready to play, right?" He pointed at Midnite. "So, you wouldn't happen to have one of those enchanted crosses sitting around here in a cabinet somewhere maybe we could take with us?"

John blinked at him, leaning back against a bench. Chas cut him off before he could say anything to prevent him from going. Chas really wanted to prove himself, and this was his big chance. "Look, John, no offence, I-I just don't think that it's a great idea, you know, you going off on a solo mission to save the world." He shrugged. "I - that's what I - that's my vote." He gestured to Midnite, who grinned even wider at the young man's bravado. "I don't know what pops thinks, but that's…" He trailed off, fearing he was only digging himself into a hole.

Midnite chuckled to himself, raising a glass to drink. "Take him, John," the witchdoctor said. "Kill him after."

Chas didn't know if Midnite was kidding or not, but Anput reassured him he was just joking. Chas blew some excess powder off a bullet and placed it with its other finished brothers.

The sun was almost finished setting, though it was difficult to tell that from where we were with the street lights. Anput, Chas, Midnite, Constantine and I all stood outside the bar, looking at the people rushing past. Each person living in their own world, most blissfully unaware of the danger that would befall them come nightfall were it not for the five of us. Midnite decided not to come with us. As it was, he was already pushing the boundaries of his oath of neutrality far enough.

Constantine sighed. "It never ceases to amaze me." Chas and I looked at him.

"What does?" Chas asked.

"Normal life," John responded. I smiled sadly, thinking of how often my assignment would have prayed to be 'normal', to _not_ have his gift, to _not_ be responsible for saving the world.

Midnite turned to Chas and took out something cross-shaped and wrapped in grey cloth from his pocket. It looked quite heavy. He handed it to the apprentice. "If you get back, see me about membership," he told Chas. "Maybe."

Chas put the cross in his coat pocket. He looked like he was suppressing the urge to jump up and down for joy. I suspected he was also suppressing a rising fear. "Okay. I will," he promised.

Midnite raised his hands over Chas. He closed his eyes and began to speak in Latin.

"What are you doing?" Chas asked. There was a slight tremor in his voice. Yep, he was definitely getting scared.

"Praying," Midnite responded. I was pleased. I knew he was doing his own version of blessing them, trying to protect them during the battle to come.

Chas nodded. "Praying. Okay."

Midnite turned to John and prepared to give him the same treatment. Constantine wasn't having it. "Come on," he said. He may have been speaking to Chas, me or Midnite. His tone to Midnite was saying "don't waste your time." His tone to the rest of us said "let's just _go_ already." Constantine started to walk towards the cab, Holy Shotgun in hand. He shoved the door open and walked out onto the street. Chas, Anput and I followed. My sister and I looked back briefly at Midnite. He was praying quietly where John had stood, still stubbornly trying to help his friend. This told me that although he was neutral, Papa Midnite still hoped that John Constantine would win this particular battle.

It had gotten was as dark as it could get in L.A. at night. By my estimate, we were about half way to Ravenscar. That was where my sister and I told our assignments Angela, Mammon and the Spear of Destiny would be. John also knew this because he had seen and recognised the inside of the hydrotherapy room while he was surfing the either on the electric chair.

John was trying to suppress his growing fear as he carefully loaded his shotgun. Experience meant that he was better at hiding it than Chas. "Half-breeds, right?" Chas clarified. He sounded anxious. He kept looking at his mentor in the rear-view mirror and tapping his fingers together nervously. "A birth like this, they're-they're definitely gonna be guarding her, right? Definitely."

"Yeah," John said quietly.

"We can get through them," Chas continued, trying to reassure himself where John was failing to do so. "I mean, that cross has got to work, right? Right?"

John didn't even look at him. "It's not always like it is in the books."

Chas considered this, looking even more worried. Anput smiled and squeezed his arm reassuringly.

"It's going to be okay," she told him. "You're going to be a big help. Just try to stay calm. I'll be with you the whole time."

I chewed my lower lip. Anput and I both knew what the outcome of this battle would be if we both did our jobs right. If Anput was to be successful with her assignment…I sighed and closed my eyes, not wanting to think about it. I looked at John. We both were tense, ready for the climatic battle. However, John's health was getting becoming worse. He looked paler than he did the other day. I knew I had to be there for him, that he was counting on my strength because he knew that his own probably wouldn't be enough.

I searched my mind for something to say to him, and called upon my sister for inspiration. "You know I'll be there," I said, hoping I didn't sound as lame and clichéd as I thought I did. "You know you won't be able to do this on your own. I won't leave you. I'll make sure that even at your lowest point, you are _not_ alone." Saying this felt right and at least it helped me feel better.

Constantine looked at me, his face blank. He nodded once, then turned his attention back to his gun.

It wasn't very much longer before we screeched up in front of the hospital. As we got out, I received mental flashes of Angela firing her gun empty at the scavenger and fighting with him in the pool where Isabel died. We walked into the building and I flinched that the vast amount of demonic presence I could feel. It reminded me of Constantine and mine's trip into Hell. Chas was carrying his own shotgun. It didn't have quite the same holy power as Constantine's but it was still loaded with the divine bullets. The hospital seemed empty. I didn't want to think about what had happened to the patients, doctors, nurses and guards that had been here. In the big picture, they weren't important.

I lingered back slightly and met eyes with Anput. I smiled slightly at her and she returned it. "I'll see you in a little bit," I whispered to her. She nodded.

Constantine and Chas paused in the middle of a T-junction in the hallway. Chas looked nervously down to the left in the direction of the maintenance area. Constantine scowled at the passage to the right towards the hydrotherapy room. We could hear an evil, demonic voice speaking faintly in the background. Chas looked to the right, then to John. "What is that?"

"Hell-speak," he replied.

The sound of it sent shivers up my spine. I swallowed and took a deep breath, steadying myself.

John looked at Chas. "You know what to do."

Chas looked down the passage he had to take. His Adam's apple bobbed. He looked back at Constantine, who surprisingly had a flicker of kindness in his eyes. He knew that Chas was young, inexperienced and afraid. He also knew that Chas would be able to step up to the plate. However, that didn't stop him form hoping that his apprentice didn't die.

"I'm okay," Chas said quietly. He seemed a bit uncomfortable with Constantine being nice to him and didn't want him to get too sappy.

My assignment smirked. "Sure."

"He'll be fine," I told him as Chas walked away. "He'll come through. Make you proud."

Anput glanced back and waved good bye to me. I waved back. Then they were gone around a corner.

Constantine looked back down the path he and I had to take. The Hell-Speak babbled darkly in our ears. Constantine looked down, possibly thinking of how he had gotten here, the friends he had lost, the friends he might still lose if things went pear-shaped here. He knew he was dying and that he probably wouldn't live another month regardless of what happened this night. This was his final chance to do what he could, while he could.

"One last show," he stated.

I nodded. "Let's do it."

Constantine bared his teeth. I clenched my fists and felt my nails bite into my palms. Then Constantine and I started towards the hydrotherapy room.


	16. Holy Water

AN/ This chapter includes another deleted scene with Ellie. Special thanks to Lady Shadiait for looking over this chapter for me. Hope you enjoy it! Thanks again to the reviewers.

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I stayed focused on the task at hand. I ignored the images I received of Chas and Anput as they entered the back room where the water tank for the sprinkler system was kept. In just about no time, Constantine and I reached the non-descript, glass double doors that lead into the exercise room. You had to pass through this room to get into hydrotherapy. It was full of half-breeds disguised as people from all races and walks of life. 

For me, approaching this room felt like diving into the deep end of a swimming pool. There was an intense wave of demonic pressure around us. All I wanted to do was turn and run as far away as I could, but of course that wasn't an option.

Constantine pushed the doors open and addressed the crowd, showing all the boldness that came from years of experience. "Hi. My name's John," he said, as if speaking to a room full of school kids and he was the special guest at their assembly. The Hell-Speak went silent as the half-breeds turned and saw him. They all recognised him and hated him. They hesitated to attack though, surprised that he should face them all at once and seemingly without fear.

Constantine strolled over to a chair and dragged it under a smoke detector. "You are in violation of the balance," he informed the mob of demons. "Leave imminently or I will deport you." He stepped up onto the chair. I stood on the ground beside him, grateful that the half-breeds didn't know I was there. I had to smile ever so slightly at my assignment. At least he offered them a hassle-free escape. Their loss they didn't take it. Constantine took out his lighter. "All of you," he vowed.

They must have thought Constantine was an idiot for threatening a room full of half-breed demons with nothing but a cigarette lighter. No one made a sound or moved a muscle. A room full of glowing red eyes stared at Constantine.

"Go to Hell," John said. He raised the flame from his lighter up to the smoke detector. It took exactly three seconds for the sprinklers to turn on. I flinched and shivered as cold water rained down on me. I noticed the water felt…smoother than normal water. The lights snapped off and John stepped off of his chair.

It took about another three seconds for the half-breeds to realise what Constantine had done. It was Ellie, who was standing in the front of the crowd, who vocalised it. "Holy water?"

Now the demons' skin started to dissolve. They began to scream terribly. They were in agony. It was a horrible, unearthly sound. I still had to smirk slightly, glad that Chas and Anput had come through. Now it was Constantine's turn. I looked to my assignment and offered him a small smile combined with a nod. He pushed the chair aside and set to work with the Holy Shotgun. I lingered back to keep out of his way.

One of the half-breeds lunged for him. Constantine blew him away with a single shot and the demon's body crumpled against the tiled floor like a broken pot. Other half-breeds tried to attack as well, those who still could anyway. Constantine caught three of them in the flash light beam on the shotgun and blasted them. He slowly walked through the room, shot another three half-breeds, knocked one against the ground, shot another one, reloaded. They kept coming at him. I wanted to help, but there was nothing I could do.

Three more attacking demons were blown into oblivion. Constantine swiped one at the knees, knocking it to the tiles. He fired at one coming to the left, struck one to his right. He was at the far end of the room now. I slowly followed, picking my way carefully through the remains of the demons. Constantine shot another half-breed close to the ground. By now, there was only one left standing. It charged at Constantine, who fired at it point-blank. The half-breed stopped, thinking it had been shot. But no, it was still standing. Constantine's gun was empty. My eyes went wide, but I knew that even if I moved now, I would never reach them in time. The demon lunged at Constantine. Its hands were almost around his shoulders when there was another blast.

I cried out in pain and fell to the floor, almost landing in the remains of one of the half-breeds. My right shoulder felt like it was on fire. I barely noticed the demon as it was blown apart.

Constantine looked behind him. There was Chas, his shotgun smoking, standing at the other door. He had shot the demon, but his bullet also went through me. I clutched my shoulder tightly as it slowly began to heal. Chas looked stunned. Anput had seen me fall and screamed. "Bastet!" She rushed to my side, confusing Chas even more. Constantine saw me and his eyes widened in concern. The last thing he needed was to worry about me. A fire lit in my belly and I struggled to my knees. Anput helped me up.

"I'm okay. Really," I told Anput and John. I looked at my injured shoulder and saw that it was just a graze. I forced myself up to my feet. I told myself I had to be strong for Constantine. I needed to be his rock. I could not be weak. I smiled grimly through the pain and looked to Anput. "Go back to Chas," I told her. My smile faded as my eyes flickered to Chas. I looked from him to my sister and back again. She got the message and nodded to me. We both knew Chas' apprenticeship was almost up.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked me.

I sighed and nodded forcefully.

"Okay." Anput went back to Chas' side and told him what had happened. He looked ill.

"Tell him I'm okay and I'm not mad at him," I said to Anput. "It was an accident." She repeated my message and Chas looked a little bit relieved.

I looked to Constantine. He still seemed a little bit concerned. I tried to reassure him. "It's okay. Just a graze. I'm fine." I glanced around the room. "You did a good job here, but we're not done yet." He sighed at me. He already knew that. I bit my lip. He was looking even sicker than he did before the fight.

"John," Chas called across the room. The sprinklers died down to just a few steady drips. Constantine dropped the empty chamber from the holy shotgun and put a fresh one in.

Constantine paused, as if he heard something or sensed something that only he could sense. I concentrated for a moment and then I felt it too. There was a half-breed that was still alive. Constantine whipped to the right, aiming his gun. Chas followed the movement, cocking his rifle, ready to provide backup. There, crouching under the headrest of an exercise bed was Ellie. Small portions of her skin had dissolved away, but she was still entirely intact. She looked like she was in a lot of pain and absolutely terrified. John looked like he would rather not be in this situation. I knew that he had conflicting thoughts about Ellie. Ellie looked up at Constantine.

"Just my luck," she said softly. "Should've bet on you."

She closed her eyes and waited for him to send her back down to Hell. Constantine hesitated, staring hard at her. I didn't know quite how much he cared about her, but it was obviously enough for him to do what he did next.

"See you around, kid," he told Ellie. Then he stepped away and towards the door to the hydrotherapy room.

Ellie, not quite believing her good fortune, decided to make a dash for it before he changed his mind. She ran past Chas, who smiled.

"What's up?" he asked her. I saw Anput give him a scolding look and smiled to myself.

My smile vanished when I looked at my assignment. He was breathing heavily, looking like he was struggling to hold it together. I went to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. Chas splashed across the room, but paused before he got too close to John. He noticed that his mentor wasn't doing very well. "You okay, boss?"

Constantine didn't answer because he knew the truth was 'no.' He couldn't give the truth right now though. He had to be strong. Everyone was counting on him. Constantine looked back at Chas and sighed quietly. Then he walked over to the side of the door where the handicap automatic open button was. He looked at Chas again, but I knew he was also addressing me.

"Ready?"

Chas blew out a deep breath and aimed his gun at the glass doors. Anput looked tense but strong. My shoulder was still sore, but the wound had already closed over. I nodded at my assignment, my face set and determined. We had come too far to back down. It was now or never, to use the cliché. I knew that we were already just a little too late so save Angela from possession, but we could still put a stop to Mammon's take over.

Constantine hit the button to open the doors. They slid apart with a ding. The four of us stepped through to what would become the final confrontation.


	17. Into the Light

As the doors opened, Constantine pivoted around and aimed his shotgun into the hydrotherapy room. The flashlight attached to the gun illuminated a grizzly sight. There was a body floating face down in the pool. It was wearing a white shirt, bloody red bullet holes staining the back.

Fearing the worst, Constantine and Chas entered the room. Anput and I walked in behind them. We could feel a demonic presence here stronger than any we had felt in the building so far. There was also a slight tingling at the back of my mind, like a feather tickling the back of my brain. I forced that feeling aside as Constantine splashed down the steps into the pool. I followed him in. My assignment waded in the waist-deep chlorinated water and turned the floating body over. Thankfully, it wasn't Angela. It was Manuel, the scavenger. He was dead, his body cast aside like a used car with way too much mileage on it.

"Uh, John?" Chas said, noticing something. I had been looking for what Chas was seeing, and when I found it I suddenly became very afraid. The water behind us started to bubble like a sea monster was rising from under the surface. "John!" Chas called, desperate to get his mentor's attention.

"Look!" I shouted, pointing a shaking finger.

Constantine looked behind him as something exploded upwards from the pool. As a reflex, he aimed his shotgun at it, but stopped short of pulling the trigger when he realised who it was. It was Angela, or at least it was Angela's body. Her eyes were an unearthly blue colour. Her skin was pale with veins sticking out. Demonic energy came off her in thick waves. Constantine realised with a start that she was possessed by Mammon himself. She growled at him, sounding like a rabid dog. A small smile played on her lips as Mammon recognised the enemy.

"Shit," Constantine muttered. It was my thoughts exactly. Constantine dropped the gun into the pool and grabbed Angela's neck and face in his hands. She grabbed hold of his upper arm and throat as Constantine began to chant in Latin. His voice was desperate. I chewed on my lip. I knew I had to help him, but I didn't know what passing through Angela while she was possessed would do to me, other than it wouldn't be very good for my health.

Angela cocked her head at Constantine, like she was curious. Then she shoved him sideways into the water. Constantine hit the bottom and Angela held him there. He kept a hold of her, but could no longer say the words needed to weaken Mammon. I dove under the water and grabbed Constantine's arm. I pulled on it, hoping to get him out from under her. Angela roared under the water as I tugged on my assignment in vain. Then Angela was suddenly gone, jerked upwards and off of Constantine.

Constantine and I burst through the surface, my assignment gasping for air as we saw Chas, his hat and gun cast aside, dragging Angela out of the pool. Anput was doing all she could to help him. Angela was roaring and screeching in protest. Constantine grabbed her and shouted "Pull!" He and Chas lugged Angela, struggling and fighting, onto the tiles at the edge of the pool.

Her battle continued there as Chas fought to hold her arms down and Constantine kneeled over her, slipping on the wet tiles. He grabbed her head and resumed chanting in Latin. I kneeled on the other side of Angela, opposite my assignment. I grabbed his arm, trying to give him as much strength as I could. Anput was doing the same to Chas. It was a difficult struggle. Mammon was fighting back hard, and winning. The demon roared and made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Mammon was realising that Constantine was weak, even with my added strength. I knew that it wouldn't be enough to stop the devil's son. He could very well win.

But then something happened. Angela's eyes rolled back into her skull and her body tensed up. Her eyes swiftly became clear and human again. She gasped for air as colour slowly reappeared in her skin. Constantine and Chas were relived. Anput and I were not. We knew it wasn't over yet, not by a long shot.

John stroked Angela's hair and whispered her name. Chas let go of her arms. Angela blinked and looked up at John. She seemed glad to see him.

Then her expression changed. I knew what was happening and felt an ill feeling in my gut. Angela's face scrunched up in pain as Mammon worked his way into her womb. She began to gasp sharply and I winced. It couldn't have been a pleasant experience.

"Angela, what is it?" John asked.

Angela gasped again in terror and sat part way up, clutching her abdomen. Chas supported her head as her stomach began to convulse. It was as if a giant parasite was wriggling and squirming underneath her skin. Briefly what looked like a demonic face could be seen pressing up from inside Angela's body. I gasped and scooted a fraction away. Angela grabbed Constantine's arms. "Get it out!" she cried in desperation.

Constantine was sickened by the thought of this monster trying to chew his way out of the woman he was beginning to fall in love with. He placed his hand over Angela's stomach and pressed down on the demon inside, chanting with the most forceful voice he could manage. Angela kicked her feet wildly and grasped Constantine's coat. She gasped and whimpered in pain, continuing to shout "Get it out!" I put my hand over Constantine's and attempted to do my part in weakening the demon. Constantine's eyes squinted shut with the effort and his voice grew horse. He was struggling, feeling ill and dizzy. It wasn't long before I too could feel my strength waning. My arm felt heavy and it became difficult for me to give Constantine enough power to stop Mammon. I realised with a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach that unless Chas and Anput also stepped up to help, we would fail.

I raised my eyes to my sister, wondering why she wasn't helping us. She was standing behind Chas looking shocked. The look I gave her said it all, though I also vocalised it. "Anput! you _have_ to help! And get him to help! We can't do this alone."

Anput seemed to finally snap out of it. "Right, Sorry," she muttered.

She nodded quickly and whispered in Chas' ear. He could already see that Constantine was fatigued, and Anput's nudge drove him to his final decision. He knew the words because had read them a thousand times. This was as good a time as any to put what he had learned to use. Chas closed his eyes and started to chant the same Latin words as his mentor. Anput placed her hands on his shoulder to give him a boost of power. Constantine looked at Chas with something like surprise on his face. Seeing his apprentice behaving this way boosted his own strength. He started chanting in a stronger, more forceful voice. He leaned in closer so that his head was next to Chas'. The two men spoke in unison, demanding that Mammon leave Angela's thrashing body. I felt a small amount of pride rise up within me, bringing with it a surge of my own power.

At last Angela lay still and the mass in her stomach stopped wriggling. Mammon was still there, but he was temporarily weakened and beaten back. We had bought ourselves a bit of time.

Angela closed her eyes and fell into unconsciousness. Constantine, Chas, Anput and I were breathing hard with exhaustion and relieved that this part of it was over. I realised that we were all dripping wet, though the water was probably mixed with a fair amount of sweat by now.

"Oh my God," Chas breathed. He sat back suddenly, as if he just realised what he had done. He stared, shocked, at Angela's prone face.

Constantine sat back, panting hard. His lungs must have felt like they were on fire. He looked up at Chas, impressed and proud. "Not bad, kid."

Chas smiled and chuckled. Anput and I beamed as well. It was the most positive thing Constantine had ever said to him. I felt that tickle at the back of my skull once again and my face fell. I made eye contact with my sister. She sighed softly and nodded. She had felt it too.

Chas looked at Angela again and addressed the demon that still lurked not too far away. Wanting to be like his exorcist mentor, he declared, "'Not bad.' you hear that? You know why that is? It's because this is Kramer. Chas Kramer, ass-"

Chas never got to finish his sentence as he was grabbed by invisible hands and wrenched upwards towards the ceiling. Constantine tried and failed to grab him. He blew past Anput as my assignment and I struggled to get up on the slippery tiles. We could only watch in horror as Chas was slammed against the ceiling. He grunted as the wind was knocked out of him. Then he was smashed onto the tiles hard enough to shatter them. I realised that if it was force enough to do that, then it would also be sufficient to shatter his ribs. Chas crashed into the ceiling and floor once again with equal force. Then he lay dead still on the broken tiles.

Constantine and I ran up to him. I looked to Anput. She solemnly turned to me and whispered "good bye."

I knew that as soon as Chas died, my sister would disappear. I nodded at her and also whispered "good bye."

Anput nodded back and looked at Chas once again. After she disappeared, she would escort Chas to his final resting place before possibly hanging around to wait for me to finish up with Constantine. I wouldn't be able to see her during that time, but it was still a small comfort for me to know that she would be there.

John didn't have this comfort. He looked shocked and numb. "Chas," he said quietly, placing a hand on his stricken friend's heart.

Chas was struggling to breathe and a small trickle of blood was flowing from his nose. His broken ribs must have punctured his ribs and heart. An image of massive internal bleeding came to my mind, but I shoved it away and swallowed hard. Constantine stared down at him, possibly wondering how this could happen. He was going to lose _another _friend, someone who had done everything he could to help him. And one so young, too; Chas was only twenty.

Chas looked to Anput, then to Constantine. "You're right, John," he managed to say. His voice was barely audible. "It's not like the books."

"No," John agreed. "It isn't." Chas had known that this job would be dangerous, but spending all his time sitting in the cab reading had softened him to the threats and dangers. Now he was suffering for it.

Chas took his last, desperate breaths, then I felt his life force leave. At the same time, Anput disappeared, leaving Constantine and I alone in the room with the unconscious Angela and the invisible being who had murdered Chas.

I licked my dry lips and found my voice. It sounded hollow with anger. "John, I think we should make whoever did this show their face."

Constantine said nothing. He stood, baring his teeth in fury and undoing the buttons on the cuffs of his shirt. He rolled up his sleeves, stepping away from Chas' body as he did so. He was breathing hard through his teeth, gathering the strength he needed. I used some of what remained of my powers to help fuel my assignment as he slammed the conjuring tattoos on his forearms together.

"Into the light, I command thee," he growled. As the two halves of the conjuring symbol neared each other, the shadows in the room seemed to lengthen and spread as if they were alive. "Into the light, I command thee," Constantine grunted as his arms were forced apart against his will. Someone didn't want to be seen. Constantine fell onto one knee withone hand on the floor to support himself. I kneeled with him as he pressed the tattoos together again. His voice seemed to become unworldly as the shadows around us grew again. "_Into the light, I command thee! **Into the light, I command thee!" **_

For a second, I thought I could see the image of giant wings unfurling from the shadows. That's when I knew for sure who was hiding. I had known it all along, of course, and I felt a grim satisfaction that I wasn't disappointed.

"**_INTO THE LIGHT I COMMAND THEE!"_**


	18. Gabriel's Betrayal

Constantine suddenly found himself pinned to the floor underneath the bare foot of the angel Gabriel. Gabriel was now dressed in an assortment of white clothes - his angel garb. He had descended on top of Constantine, trapping him. His foot was on his throat. It wasn't hard enough to choke him, just hard enough to keep him there. Constantine's hands went to the angel's ankle, but he had no strength to move it.

"Your ego is astounding," Gabriel declared with a smile, folding his steel-grey wings behind him. I glared up at the angel from my place on the floor, seething with restrained anger.

"Gabriel," Constantine growled. He thought about it for a moment, and then added with a slight cough, "Figures. And the wicked shall inherit the Earth."

"You judging me now, John?" Gabriel asked. His voice sounded too pleasant. It grated on me. Gabriel shoved Constantine's face into the tiles with his toes. Constantine fought to look up at him.

"Betrayal, murder, genocide, call me provincial."

Gabriel shrugged. "I am simply seeking to inspire mankind to all that was intended."

"By handing Earth over to the son of the Devil?" It understandably didn't make sense to Constantine. He demanded an explanation. "Help me here."

Gabriel was happy to oblige. He bent down towards Constantine and replaced his foot with his hand around Constantine's throat. My assignment gasped at the contact. Gabriel straddled Constantine's chest and raised his face to look up at him.

"You're handed this precious gift, right? Each one of you granted redemption from the Creator."

Constantine's head lulled back onto the floor. He seemed more ill now then he ever had been. He avoided Gabriel's gaze, yet still took in everything the rebel angel said. I held on to my assignment's arm to give him support, though I knew it was next to pointless.

"Murderers, rapists and molesters…" Gabriel continued. "…All of you, you just have to repent and God takes you into his bosom." He made a face and shook his head, like it was the most incredibly stupid notion in the world to even consider. "In all the worlds in all the _universe_ no other creature can make such a boast, save man." Constantine closed his eyes as the angel rolled his head back and forth. John didn't even try to put up a fight. He was beyond that now. I felt a surge of sadness for him.

Gabriel sighed and leaned in closer, holding Constantine's head in his hands. Their noses were less than a foot away from each other. A quiet growl developed in my throat. John weakly opened his eyes and looked at the angel. "If sweet, sweet God loves you so," Gabriel said. "Then I'll make you worthy of His love. I've been watching you for a long time. It's only in the face of horror that you truly find your nobler selves. And you _can_ be _so_ noble."

I gritted my teeth. I hated to admit it, but Gabriel had a point. Horror did tend to bring out the best in some people. However, it could also bring out the _worst_ in them, and the worst of human nature is a frightening thing indeed.

"So…" the angel summed up. He nodded to himself. "…I'll bring you pain, I'll bring you horror, so that you may rise above it." He grinned at Constantine and lifted him up, his hand grasping his shirt collar and tie. I also got to my feet, trying to hide my awe at how easily Gabriel could lift Constantine. My assignment's toes were barely touching the ground. "So that those of you who survive this reign of Hell on Earth will be worthy of God's love."

I felt a flash of anger. Wasn't that entirely missing the point of Jesus' sacrifice? Didn't He die so that _everyone_ would be able to go to Heaven? Who did Gabriel think he _was_, anyway?

Constantine voiced my thoughts perfectly. "Gabriel, you're insane."

Gabriel only smiled, mildly amused. "The road to salvation begins tonight, right now."

He took a breath and blew at Constantine with the force of a small tornado. He let go and Constantine was blown back to the far side of the room where the half-breed demons had once stood waiting. He bounced off the tiled floor and impacted the glass doors, shattering them. I ran up to him before the sliding doors could close behind me, separating us from Gabriel and Angela. I slipped on the wet floor but caught myself before I fell on the remains of a half-breed.

When I reached Constantine, he was lying on his side. If possible, he looked even _worse_ now; his skin was deathly pale and he had red rings around his eyes. He could barely breathe and was aching all over. Everything bad that had happened had built up to this point. It was just blow after blow after blow. Cancer was hungrily eating his lungs and zapping his strength. Chas, one of his last remaining friends, was dead and his murderer, an _angel,_ was about to release the son of Satan into this world. Doing so would also kill the woman John was falling in love with. He had nothing left except me and even then he knew I couldn't really do anything productive other than stick by his side.

I knelt by John as he gazed towards the ceiling, towards Heaven. Then he did something he would only do in absolute desperation: he prayed.

"I know I'm not one of your favourites," he said quietly. His voice was horse with exhaustion and sickness. "I'm not even welcome in Your house. But I could use a little attention. Please."

We waited a moment. Nothing. I wasn't surprised and nether was he. If God was going to respond, He would have done it in that time. The room was depressingly silent and still.

I bit my lip, forming words in my mind. I didn't want to say them, but I saw no other option. "You know…" I faltered, swallowed and tried again. "You know who _will_ come up here, if you call him. He could stop it too, providing he doesn't already know about it." I paused. Constantine said nothing as he mulled this over. "What other option do you have?" I asked softly, feeling time tick on. I was probably voicing John's own thoughts.

John looked at the shards of glass littering the floor around him. He saw one that was particularly large and sharp. He reached over to it and lifted it up. Then he made his final decision of what to do.

"You knew about this all along," John said to me. He sounded empty inside.

"Yes," I replied quietly.

"Then you know what I'm going to do next."

I nodded. "I do." I looked at the piece of glass in his hand and sighed. I helped John up into a sitting position, his back propped up against the doors.

In my mind's eye I saw Gabriel circle around Angela, then kneel down and make a cross on her forehead. Angela's skin became demonic again.

John removed his watch and dropped it to the wet floor beside him.

Gabriel placed his hand over Angela's stomach and told Mammon to come forth. He did so, appearing just underneath the surface of Angela's skin again. For a second, Gabriel seemed unsure as to whether he should continue, whether it was really the right thing, but it was too late now to back down.

John moved the piece of glass into position over his wrist. I couldn't bear to watch so I looked at his face instead. He hesitated as he pressed the glass to his skin, then with a wince he brought it swiftly across. I also winced at the sound and his expression of pain. The beginnings of tears welled up in my eyes, though I tried to suppress them. He transferred the glass to his injured hand and did the same to the other wrist. Then he tossed the shard towards me. I watched it clatter, stained with blood that was shockingly red against the clinically white tiles. John let his arms rest limply by his sides. Dark blood pooled out of the cuts as if eager to escape. John took a deep breath. He would already be able to feel his arms becoming heavy and a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach as his blood pressure dropped.

"Hurry," he murmured.

"Yes, please hurry," I prayed silently to whoever was listening.


	19. Satan

I shivered as my assignment's blood flowed towards me. I wanted to move away, but my loyalty to Constantine told me to stay put. I placed my hand on his shoulder, trying to think of something to say as Constantine's head rolled back to rest against the doors. Nothing came to mind, so I remained quiet.

"You don't have to be strong for me," John murmured.

"Shhh," I hushed him. "Yes I do, John. It's my job." I felt afraid, no… terrified. A phrase began to repeat myself over and over in my brain; "This _has_ to be done. This _has_ to be done. _This has to be done_…"

I saw a flash of Gabriel removing the Spear of Destiny from his belt. "Mammon, son of Satan, I unleash you unto this world," he declared.

Those words chilled me. I saw Mammon push his hands out, stretching Angela's skin, ready to break through. I blinked my eyes and looked up at the light above us. I was grimly pleased to see it begin to flicker and become dimmer. I began to feel time slow down. It reminded me of our visit to Hell.

"Here he comes," I whispered. My breath quickened as I fought to keep my panic down. It would not help Constantine if I freaked out. His head rolled forward, staring at the ground.

I knew that by this time, Gabriel would have the Spear of Destiny raised above Angela. I was comforted by the fact that if time stopped here, it would stop in the rest of the building too. Constantine was counting on this for his drastic and unorthodox plan to work.

The tick of Constantine's watch gradually slowed…and finally stopped. A small gasp escaped my throat. This was it.

We waited for what felt like an agonising long time, though it was only a few moments. I watched a sizzling drip of hot tar fall form somewhere up above. It landed a few meters in front of us. I could feel the presence of an evil so deep, so utterly complete and final that it chilled me to the bone. More splotches of tar dropped to the wet floor as a pair of bare feet descended after them. Satan came down in a pose like Christ on the cross. He was dressed in a smart white suit and looked human. However, upon closer examination you could see that he wasn't quite right. He looked sickly and had no eyebrows. Veins stood out sharply on the side of his face. Hints of dark tattoos peaked out from under the Devil's sleeves and shirt collar. His feet and the cuffs of his trousers were covered in the tar. I assume he needed it to walk comfortably on Earth.

Constantine looked up at the demonic newcomer. "Lu. What took you so long?" he demanded. I felt a brief shot of pride for my assignment. It took real guts to face the Devil with a question like that.

"Hello, John," Lucifer greeted, like they were old friends. His voice was as oily as the tar on his feet. "John, hello." He lifted the chair Constantine had used when addressing the half-breeds and placed it right in front of John. He sat down on it.

A sudden feeling of nausea washed over me. I swallowed hard and gave the Devil my darkest look. If he tried to do anything to my assignment, I would certainly give my all to stop him even though I knew my powers no where near matched his. Despite this, I was still invisible to Satan. I have never been so thankful to be invisible in my life.

He looked at Constantine with just a hint of admiration. "You're the one soul I would come up here to collect myself. Mm-hmm," he said, nodding. Lucifer burst into a sarcastically enthusiastic round of applause. Even his feet danced in excitement. We all knew Lucifer wouldn't drag himself up here for just anyone. Constantine was very special to him, although that wasn't necessarily something to be proud of.

Constantine had heard it all many times before. It was the whole reason why an unhealthy proportion of his blood was now on the tiles of the hospital. "So I've heard," he said, deadpan. "You mind?" He reached into his pocket for a cigarette and his lighter. I frowned at the gesture, but just like all the other times he did it, I let it slide.

"Oh, go - go right ahead. I've got stock," Lucifer said, looking around the room.

Constantine weakly raised the cigarette packet with the end of a fresh smoke poking out. "Coffin nail," he remarked, and pulled the cigarette out with his numb lips.

"Very fitting, John," Satan commented, adjusting his suit and smiling.

Constantine tried to light the smoke but he couldn't seem to make his fingers work. The lighter fell out of his hand. He sighed in frustration.

"You know, when you cut too deep, you cut the tendons and finger movement goes right out the window," Satan told him. I sighed softly and squeezed Constantine's shoulder. Of course the Devil would know all about that. He leaned forwards off the chair and picked up the lighter. I flinched at his close presence. "Let me help you," he offered. Satan ignited a flame on the lighter and held it to Constantine's cigarette, but moved it away before John could light it. He moved the flame back and fourth, teasing him. I allowed myself to growl and Constantine gave him a dirty, withering look. Satan stopped fooling around and held the flame still for Constantine to light his smoke. He grinned broadly as my assignment took the first of his last puffs.

"See?" Satan violently snapped the lighter closed and my assignment and I flinched again. He tossed the lighter onto Constantine's slouched stomach near where a pocket would be and sat back on the chair. "Sonny, I've got a whole _theme park _full of red delights for you," Satan declared excitedly.

Constantine took the cigarette out of his mouth. "Well aren't you a peach," he responded unenthusiastically.

Satan considered his victim's bloody wrists for a moment. "I didn't think you would make the same mistake twice," he admitted.

Constantine said nothing. He inhaled on his cigarette, not breaking eye contact with his foe.

Satan's suspicions grew. He knew Constantine very well. "And you didn't, did you?"

Constantine averted the question and changed the subject. He didn't want Satan getting any closer to the truth of his plan. "So, how's the family?"

"Family's doing just fine," Lucifer responded, sounding like a regular Joe standing at the office water cooler. "Busy, busy, busy, busy, busy!" He smiled and snorted. "Need a vacation."

"Word is that kid of yours is a chip off the old block."

"Well, one does what one can."

Constantine made a slight gesture with his head towards the doors opposite. "He's in the other room."

Lucifer was nonplussed. He casually began rubbing his foot over Constantine's thigh, already starting to play with him. "Boys will be boys," he drawled. I growled at him again, repulsed.

Constantine was equally disgusted by Satan's touch. He managed to bend his knee, shifting his leg sightly away. "With Gabriel."

Satan wrinkled his nose. "Huh. No accounting for taste, really."

Constantine kept his voice level as he played his last card. "They have the Spear of Destiny."

I held my breath. We knew that Satan would be able to add that all up and know what it meant. The question was whether or not he had previous knowledge of this. If he did, that meant he approved of it and Constantine, the world, and I were all in seriously deep trouble.

"'They have the Spear of Destiny,'" Lucifer repeated in a cruel, mocking voice. He giggled, paused, and then laughed again. He leaned in towards Constantine, got right in his face and suddenly became dead serious. "Or is it another one of your cons?"

I let myself smile. "Yes! He hadn't known!" I cheered. Constantine would have been thinking similar thoughts. He hid this extremely well though. He even leaned his head forward a bit, to show that he wasn't afraid. It was a mighty display of bravado; more then I could have done in his situation. Of course I knew that's all it was; a show. Inside, Constantine was as terrified as I was.

"Go look for yourself," Constantine suggested.

Lucifer searched Constantine's eyes to see if he was lying, to find some rationale for going to see if he was telling the truth. The Devil seriously considered what would happen if he _wasn't_ lying, if Mammon really was there with the Snob and the Spear…

"You've waiting twenty years for me, Lu," Constantine pointed out. "What's another twenty seconds?"

The Devil thought about it for another moment, and then suddenly lunged at Constantine. He snarled menacingly in his ear. Constantine and I jumped at the sudden movement. Constantine flinched and pulled his face away as much as he could. Satan's tongue darted out, flickered against Constantine's skin, then just as suddenly as he lunged forward, he was gone. I breathed for what seemed like the first time in many minutes as we watched the Devil stroll towards the doors. I squeezed Constantine's shoulder again.

"You did well," I told him. "I'm proud of you. You did better than I would have in your place."

"Yeah," he said softly. "But it's not over yet."

"I know." I looked back at Satan as he exploded the glass doors outward and stepped through the shards as they floated in slow-motion through the air. My body remained with Constantine, comforting him as much as I could, while my mind went with the Devil. Part of me really didn't want to miss his encounter with Gabriel.

In my mind I saw Satan continue to stroll towards the frozen scene in the hydrotherapy room. Bits of broken glass bounced off his shoulders as he saw Gabriel in the slow-motion process of bringing the Spear of Destiny down upon Angela's body. Mammon's hands were stretching the skin of the woman's stomach, reaching out for the world. Satan's face barely changed as he realised that Constantine was right. He slowly stepped up to Angela and placed his arm under her neck. He gently scooped her up and out of the way just as he let time start again.

The Spear of Destiny slammed into the tiles and lay imbedded there like a knife in a thick steak. Glass rained down around them and Gabriel stumbled back in shock, his wings spread to balance him. "Lucifer!"

My attention was briefly brought back to Constantine. When time continued moving normally, that meant that the blood also started to flow from his wrists again. He was near enough death as it was. Now each second brought him closer.

"It's okay," I told him. "Satan wouldn't let you die until he has a final word with you." John nodded slowly. He looked like he was fighting to stay conscious. "Stay awake, John!" I commanded him. "Stay awake for me. We're going to get through this. Just hold on a little longer." I watched him for a few moments to make sure he followed my orders, then I redirected my attention to the events in the hydrotherapy room.

Satan was holding Angela's prone body close to him. In their reflection on the wet tiles I could see that it wasn't Angela the Devil was holding, but an angry, snarling, squirming Mammon.

"This world is mine, in time," Lucifer told Gabriel. His tone was like a parent telling their child to wait in line and be patient. "You best of all of us, Gabriel, should understand _am-bition_."

The angel was shaking, mostly out of fear, I suspected. Or possibly anger. "Son of perdition," he said, using the title as an insult. "Little horn." Satan smiled and giggled like it was a favourite old joke he hadn't heard in years. "Most unclean."

"Mmm. I do miss the old names," Satan admitted.

A flicker of a smile crossed my features. It was like water off a duck's back. Even I had to think, "Is that the best you can do?"

Satan snarled in Angela's ear. "Time to go home, son."

Gabriel gathered his courage. He knew an opportunity like this would never come again. "I will smite thee in His honour!" He stood and swung his fist…only to have it stopped mere millimetres from the Devil's face. Gabriel was shocked. Satan's eyes looked Heavenward and he smiled wolfishly

"Looks like somebody doesn't have your back any more." He moved his hand in front of Gabriel's fist and pushed it away like an invisible force field was around him. I was pleased to see fear, _real_ fear, in Gabriel's eyes.

A gale-force blast of hot air emanated from the Devil. He sent his son back into Hell to be punished at a later time. Gabriel closed his eyes as his wings began to incinerate. He asked for help one last time. "Father?" But God wasn't going to assist the angel now. Gabriel was blown back into the pool with a force that created a monster-sized splash. The entire building rumbled right down to the foundation. Mine and Constantine's hair and clothes flowed in the wind and a piece of glass from the door we were leaving against. I suddenly realised my mind was back with my body beside my stricken assignment.


	20. You Will Live

Constantine had not moved. He sat very still with his eyes closed. I squeezed his shoulder. He was not dead yet, but I knew he wouldn't last much longer. "You did it," I told him. "Your plan worked!"

Constantine didn't respond.

"Constantine?" I asked, worry in my voice. "John?"

I looked up suddenly as Satan approached us. I sensed his return due to his sheer evil presence rather than heard his footsteps on the tiles. He placed a hand on the back of the chair. "So."

Constantine struggled to move. He opened his eyes, saw me, and then looked at Lucifer standing there expectantly. He knew the Devil owed him something, and he was not going to leave until he delivered it.

"…so." Constantine said. His voice was a mere whisper.

"Yeah, what do you want?" Satan asked, impatient. "An _extension_?"

I remembered my words to Constantine. It seemed like weeks ago that I said it, even though it was only the other day. "Think about what other people want for a change." I could tell this was filtering through his cloudy brain. The closest person to him now was Angela. He remembered what she wanted, to change places with her sister if she could.

"The sister…Isabel…" he managed to say. A ghost of a smile spread on my face.

The Devil knew exactly who Constantine was talking about.

"What about her?"

Constantine met Satan's gaze. "Let her go home."

Satan was pleased. "You're willing to give up your life so she can go to Heaven?" This meant that he did not have to wait another twenty years for Constantine's soul to play with. He could have him right away. He didn't even really care about Isabel. She meant nothing to him.

Constantine could only just manage a nod at this point.

Satan's eyes rolled back in this head and he looked skyward. There was a pause and I felt a strange surge of energy. Then the Devil's gaze snapped down again. "Fine, it's done." He grinned and moved the chair out of his way. "Time to go, John."

"Yeah," Constantine muttered, finishing his cigarette. He crushed it out next to me, in a pool of his own blood.

I stood up as Satan moved forward. There was a slight pause for effect as he grabbed John's left wrist, then he unceremoniously pulled him away from the wall. Constantine's body swung around limply as he let himself be dragged away. I walked along side them, my eyes on Constantine. I have never before had an assignment in a situation like this, and I probably never will again. I heard Satan begin to whistle a little tune as he tugged on Constantine's arm.

I looked up to the Heavens. "Any time now would be good," I thought impatiently. I knew that our only hope lay in our faith in the power of sacrifice.

Then, to my delight, I heard the sound of grinding tiles. I looked down and saw the floor bunch up around Constantine, preventing the Devil from dragging him any further. It was like someone put the brake on. Satan noticed this and looked back, puzzled. He pulled as hard as he could, but Constantine would not budge. He dropped his arm as a bright golden light filled the room. A pleasant, warm breeze began to blow that made Satan squint painfully. He knew just as well as I did what it meant. I grinned when he voiced it. "The sacrifice."

Constantine found himself being lifted up towards the golden light. My grin broadened as I caught a glimpse of Heaven with John headed towards it.

"No, this one belongs to me!" Satan raged.

Constantine looked over his shoulder and raised one hand with the middle finger firmly extended. I bet it wasn't just him behind the gesture.

The Devil seethed with anger and lunged forward. He grabbed John and spoke into his ear. "No, you will live, John Constantine." Satan tore open his shirt. John looked down, wondering what would happen. "You will live."

Without any more warning, Satan plunged his hands through the skin on John's chest and into his lungs. As soon as this happened, the Heavenly light went away. John screamed in agony as Lucifer raked his fingers through his flesh, purposely making the procedure as painful as possible. I placed my hand over my mouth to stop myself from crying out.

"So you will have…" Satan continued, his speech as drawn out as his torture to my assignment. I watched and listened intently, somehow unable to turn away. "…the chance to _prove_…" Constantine screamed again as his skin began to smoke. His legs kicked the air wildly. I winced. "…that your soul truly belongs in Hell."

With that, Satan dropped him. John landed hard on the floor. I rushed down beside him and placed my hand on his back. I assured myself he was still alive and looked up at Lucifer as he backed away. His hands were full of something sticky, dripping and black. I realised with a mixture of amazement and disgust that it was the cancer he had torn from Constantine's lungs.

"Oh, you will live," Satan repeated. "You will live."

And then he was gone, or at least as much as he ever is.

I thought about how my assignment also had another chance now to now prove his soul truthfully belonged in Heaven. It was like he had a clean slate. It was up to him now which way he went. I looked back down to Constantine and gently shook him. "John?"

I could feel and hear him breathe again, and for once those breaths came easily. There was no fiery pain in his chest. The air flowed smoothly in and out. The colour returned to his cheeks and he looked the healthiest I had ever seen him. He opened his eyes and blinked, realising that he was not only alive, but in better shape than he had been in a long time.

He started to push himself up to his knees. "Easy," I said, helping him steady himself. I could not keep a smile off my face, especially as John checked his chest and wrists for any sign of damage. There was none whatsoever. "You did it," I said. I wanted to dance around the room, relieved that the absolute worst of my job here was over. "You saved the world and you're alive. You've been given a _third_ chance at life. Can you believe it?"

John looked at me and actually smiled. "Yep."

We stood up and turned towards the hydrotherapy room. As we walked, John did up the buttons of his shirt. "I told you," I said happily. I could barely contain myself. "I _told_ you that if you stuck with me everything would turn out alright." John gave me a warning look. I grinned and shut up. We could see Angela sit up and look around. She smiled when she saw John. He knelt down by her side and sighed softly. They didn't say anything for a moment.

Angela spoke first. "Thank you."

I smiled. It was a thank you for everything. She could sense what he had done for her, for Isabel, and for the world. She was the only one who would ever say 'thank you.'

"No problem," John said with a small shrug. I rolled my eyes in amusement. He just made the ultimate sacrifice, faced the Devil _himself_, and all he could say was "no problem." Typical.

He leaned over Angela and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her. She was surprised and disappointed when he instead went for the Spear of Destiny. He tugged it out of the tiled floor and the two of them looked at it.

The sound of splashing and coughing brought our attention to the pool. Gabriel was there, floundering in the water. He stood up and his blackened, charred clothes became visible. What really caught my attention were his wings, or what was left of them. Two bloody stumps stood on Gabriel's back. He felt behind and touched them tenderly.

Constantine stood up. "Human," he declared. Gabriel looked at him, slightly fearful. Constantine put the Spear in his inside coat pocket. "You don't deserve to be human."

"Do you want revenge?" the ex-angel guessed. He was not used to not knowing everything other people were thinking. "Is that what you're thinking right now?"

Constantine was quiet, considering. Angela stood up beside him, wondering what he would do. I crossed my arms over my chest.

Gabriel stood up. He was holding the Holy Shotgun in his arms. "Do it," he said. He waded towards Constantine. "Do it." He climbed the stairs and stood before my assignment. "Seek revenge. End my life." He handed John the gun. The barrel of it pointed point-blank at Gabriel's middle. "Go on," he urged. "Be the hand of God. It's your choice." Constantine grabbed the gun and Gabriel spread his arms wide. Constantine aimed at his chest, finger on the trigger and desperate to blow the bastard away. "It's always been your choice."

"Uh, John?" I said. "Are you _really_ sure you want to do that? I know it's tempting, but…"

"Yeah," John said to both me and Gabriel. There was a pregnant pause, then Constantine punched Gabriel in the side of the mouth. The force of it shocked the former angel, who bent over. There was a brief pause before his face screwed up and he raised his hand to his mouth. It was the first time he had ever experienced this bizarre phenomenon. "It's called pain," Constantine told him. "Get used to it."

John, Angela and I turned away and began to leave. I felt more pride for my assignment than ever before. He probably hadn't expected Satan to tempt him so soon after his meeting with him, and I was glad he saw Gabriel's words for what they _really_ were.

I couldn't help but look over my shoulder at Gabriel as he saw the blood, _his_ blood, on his hand and tasted it on his lip. He smiled. "You could have _shot_ me, John," he shouted. I smiled to myself and looked away. Gabriel's words continued to follow us. He sounded like he thought he had just been proven right about Hell on Earth bringing out the nobility in a person. "You chose a higher path. Look how well you're doing!"

John spared Gabriel a brief glance back. Then he opened the door for Angela and me to walk out of the room.


	21. Guardian Angels

A day passed. Compared to the events of the pass few days, this one was extremely uneventful. Now it was night and John and I were getting ready to go up to the roof of the bowling alley and meet Angela. John had something he wanted to give her. I was lost in thought. The time had come for me to leave John Constantine and I was working out what I was going to say to him.

"Ready?" John asked me.

"Yeah." I sighed and took a deep breath. "Uh, John? I have to tell you something."

"What?"

"I have to leave you now. My job here is done. You've saved the day and made it out alive." I tried to smile. It is always difficult for me to leave an assignment.

"So you're going? You're not going to follow me around anymore?" John looked partly happy at the thought of this.

"Yes, I'm going," I confirmed. "Right after you say good bye to Angela."

John nodded. "Then let's go."

I followed him out of his apartment and up the stairs to the roof. I was a little bit hurt that he wasn't making a big deal about me leaving. "Remember when I told you that there was a chance that I may still come back? That chance is still there, you know."

Constantine spared me a look. "Great," he remarked sarcastically.

I lightly punched his arm. "Oh, come on! I wasn't that bad! I _did_ help you out. I helped you fight demons _and_ I stuck by your side while you had your little meeting with Lucifer."

John sighed. He had to admit I was right, though he was reluctant to. "Yeah, okay. " He stopped and looked me in the eyes. "Thank you, Bastet."

I smiled. It was a genuine thank you. That was all I wanted. "You're welcome."

Constantine nodded and smiled slightly. Then we continued our way up to the roof.

It was a clear night. A slightly chilly breeze blew. Angela was already there, gazing down at the wonderful view of the city at night. John and I walked up to her.

"Nice spot," Angela remarked without looking at Constantine.

John surveyed the view for a moment before turning to her. "I have something for you."

Angela smiled and looked at him. "Something tells me you're not a flowers kind of guy."

John smirked and pulled out an object wrapped in cloth from the inside pocket of his coat.

"Oh, how thoughtful," Angela said as he handed it to her. She pulled the cloth down from one end of the object, revealing the tip of the Spear of Destiny. She gasped softly. "John… why are you giving me this?" she asked, sweeping her hair out of her face and raising her confused eyes to meet his.

"Rules," John said simply. "Hide it. Somewhere no one will ever be able to find it, not even me."

"Ah." Angela smiled a little and recited words that Constantine had once said to her. "Always a catch."

John nodded. "Yeah."

They were quiet for a while. Angela pushed some more hair out of her face and contemplated just how close John was standing in front of her. It wouldn't have been much of a stretch for them to kiss. I thought they would have made a cute couple. They had the same eyes; sad and deep brown.

"So," Angela said, feeling a little awkward.

"I've got some cleaning up to do," John whispered. Angela and I both knew what he meant. John had been given another chance at life, but it was going to take some time for him to set everything right. He had a lot of screwed-up things in his life he needed to sort out. It may take him a while, but I had faith in him. I believe Angela did too

She smiled slowly. "I'll…see you around." I smiled too. It was definitely an invitation.

John nodded slightly again and smiled. "I'd like that."

They looked into each other's eyes some more. Sexual tension sparked between them, but they didn't kiss. Angela just turned and walked away. I sighed.

"At least you left on good terms," I muttered was we watched Angela leave. "That's better than most people who come Constantine's way." I turned to John, ready to say my good byes. "I'd better be going too. Hopefully I'll get to see you again."

"I think I'd rather see _her_ again," John said, pointing after Angela.

I laughed and let myself begin to float upwards. "Good bye, John."

John looked up at me and nodded. "Good bye."

I flew out over the city with Constantine watching me go. I closed my eyes and received a vision of him rummaging through his pockets for something. I grinned when he popped some gum into his mouth to combat a nicotine craving. It was the first step to improving his life. I knew what he was probably thinking:

"_I guess there's a plan for all of us. I had to die, twice, just to figure that out. Like the Book says, He works His work in mysterious ways. Some people like it, some people don't."_

"Fair enough," I said to no one in particular.

I floated around LA for a little while, killing some time. Then I flew over to a cemetery. I didn't really knew which one it was, but my heart knew and I trusted it to guide me. It didn't take me long to find it. What made this specific cemetery special was one particular fresh grave and the spirit standing next to that grave.

"Hey," Anput greeted me.

"Hey," I replied, a little distracted as landed. I read the carving on the very large tombstone. I suspected an anonymous donation from Constantine had something to do with the size. The inscription on it read:

**Chas Kramer  
****1985 - 2005**

I sighed sadly. "He was so young. It wasn't fair."

Anput shook her head. "No, it wasn't."

I looked at her. She had been standing watch by her assignment's grave for a long time now. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"That's ok. How did the 'good bye' go?"

"Good."

I heard footsteps approaching and moved to my sister's side. Constantine was approaching the grave. Because I was technically no longer his spirit guide, he wouldn't be able to see or hear me any more. He was coming to pay his respects to Chas. Chas' angry family had banned John from the funeral, blaming him for Chas' death. But now, in the middle of the night, John could come in peace.

He walked up to the grave and paused. He stood there for a few minutes, staring at the stone. The only sounds were the crickets chirping softly in the background. Then John stepped forward and took something out of his pocket. It was his old gold lighter with the ornate symbols. He hesitated, holding it over the top of the stone.

"You did good, kid," John said quietly. He placed his lighter on the stone as a sort of offering to his fallen apprentice. He waited a few more moments before turning to leave.

John only got a few paces away before a sound made him turn. Anput and I grinned as two large, steel-grey wings unfolded on top of the tombstone. From the right angle, it would appear that John himself had sprouted the wings. The wings lifted to reveal Chas. He was in white angel gear and his eyes shone with a golden power. He took the lighter and smiled. Then with a single, mighty flap he soared upwards and vanished.

John turned around once more and smiled a slightly amused smile. Then he continued to stroll through the quiet graveyard. In my heart I wished him well.

"Looks like he'll have two guardian angels for now on," I said to Anput.

She smiled. "Yeah."

I sighed contently. "Ready to go home?"

"Yeah. Let's go."

Then my sister and I disappeared.

* * *

AN/ I'm going to do my whole thank-you speech now, seeing as the only other chapter after this is a Spirit tie-in between this fic and the next one in the series.

I would like to thank Francis Lawrance for directing the film, Keanu Reves for acting, and John Shirley for writing the novelisation. Without them, the fine people at Warner Bros and the Virtigo Comics writers and illustrators who made Hellblazer, this fic would not have been possible. Special thanks also to Cameron for betaing and all my friends for their encouragement. Thanks again as well to all of the reviewers. All of you are stars!

Dedicated to Eleanor Rose and all cats who have crummy names.

Have faith, because you never know who has faith in you.


	22. Rose

"You look tired," Rocko announced.

I smiled at him. I did feel tired and stressed. Rocko, otherwise known as Cedar, Serro, and many other names, was a spirit friend of mine. I suppose one would call him my boyfriend.

"I do feel a bit tired," I said.

"Why? Was working with Constantine really that hard?"

"Well, he wasn't exactly the easiest assignment." I sighed. "But it's not just because of him that I'm tired. I've been working almost non-stop for a long time."

"I know," Rocko said. "That's why I've requested a break for you." He walked towards me. "You are going to take a holiday with me, if you want. We can relax together before we both go back to work."

I smiled again. "That's great! I think I am going to need the chance to rest up before my next assignment. You know who it is?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Captain Jack Sparrow."

"Again?"

"Yup. Sequel. You know what happens to him, right?"

Rocko nodded. "Oh yeah. You're in for a hard time."

"I know," I pouted. "So I'm going to need that holiday."

"Uh huh." Rocko paused and frowned. "I thought you were going to see Nightcrawler again before you went back to Jack."

I sighed. "Nope. He went back to Germany and didn't get to be a part of the action with the X-Men again. I might pop in and see him briefly before I return to the Caribbean though."

"Yeah, that's a good idea."

I noticed that Rocko was holding something behind his back. I smiled playfully. "What do ya have there?"

Rocko smiled slowly and brought out a long stem white rose. I gasped as he handed it to me.

"When this rose wilts, my love for you will end," he said.

I frowned, confused. Then I realised that the rose was artificial. It was so beautifully made that I had been completely fooled to begin with. I grinned at him. "That line is so cheezy."

Rocko shrugged.

"Thank you," I said, rising up to my toes to give him a kiss.

"I'm going to enjoy this holiday," I thought to myself. "_Really_ enjoy it."

* * *

AN/ I'm really sorry this epilogue took so long to post. It just kind of got pushed to the side. The story of the rose is based on a true one. My boyfriend is a romantic darling. Thanks once again to everyone who supported me through the writing of this fic. I hope to see you all again for 'Sparrow Spirit 2.' Keep an eye on my bio. page for more details as to when I will post it.

Au revoir!


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